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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23425048">the essentials of us</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/maygp/pseuds/maygp'>maygp</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Miraculous Ladybug</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>ABC Challenge, AU, Aged Up, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Daminette, F/M, MariBat, Slice of Life, Swearing, brief mentions of violence, one shots</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 10:02:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>47,423</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23425048</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/maygp/pseuds/maygp</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>You’re the only one I want by my side when I fall asleep.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Marinette Dupain-Cheng/Damian Wayne</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>186</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>667</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. angelic — wear your halo</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Summary from BROCKHAMPTON’s <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sZd-t5-I5uA">"SUGAR"</a>.</p>
    </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A is for <i>Angelic</i>.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="s2"> <em> <strong>angelic</strong></em> <strong> — wear your halo</strong> </span>
</p>
<hr/><p class="p1"><em> <span class="s2">She’s pretty</span> </em> <span class="s3">, Damian thinks as he watches her twirl about his room this way and that — her curiosity getting the better of her while they await for his father and brothers to return.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s3">He feigns sleep and lets her do as she pleases, opening and closing each drawer as she eyes their contents, before growing bored and looking through the next knick-knack to keep her entertained.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s3">“Who are you?” he asks suddenly, narrowing his eyes just the slightest at the way she spins around to face him. Her dark locks whipping her cheek as she does so.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s3">“Marinette.” She grins sheepishly, and there is that light thrum in his chest as he hears how sweet-sounding just her name is. The girl approaches him as if she were gliding across the floorboards, and the thrumming in his chest gets heavier without his say so.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s3">He looks away from her, briefly taking in the unkempt state she left his room in along with the the hidden listening devices his brother planted. They were not alone with his family gathering intel as much as this mysterious girl would let them. </span> <span class="s3">Surely they were just as curious and weary on where this girl came from.</span></p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1"><em> <span class="s3">Appearing out of thin</span> </em> <span class="s3"><em> air</em>, he briefly recalls them discussing it as he drifted in and out of consciousness. <em>But she still saved him.</em></span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s3">He remembers it. Remembers on how he was humiliatingly bested from his enemy’s dirty tricks, and then falling into the violent waters of the pier. Through his semiconscious state, he was well aware of how painful the fall would be, yet, no matter how much he forced himself to prepare for a softer landing, his cloudy mind would not listen.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s3">Instead, the only thing at the forefront of his mind was the sudden squeeze on his pinky finger and the red string that floated in his field of vision.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s3">At first, he believed it to be another wire meant to cut into him, yet, the string disappeared in a blink — right when he felt a warm and harsh pressure cradle him. And there was a phantom pain in his back as someone cried so beautifully in his ear.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s3">He lost consciousness after that.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s3">Despite it almost feeling like a dream that he survived, Damian knows that the reason he is there now is because of her — this Marinette, standing in the flesh and bones and blood.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s3">And for some reason, he has this relief that she is who he had been searching for in the shadows and the euphoric rays of light.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s3">He cannot help but glare at her and the way she kneels by his bedside and looking so innocently up at him — as if she can see right through him.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s3">Her hand reaches for his own, and he </span> <span class="s2">lets</span> <span class="s3"> her take ahold of it.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s3">And it’s the same warmth that he felt when he was falling — <em>and is he falling now?</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s3">She — <em>Marinette,</em> he reminds himself — traces his pinky with a knowing smile, and <em>damn it</em> — what does she know?</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s3">Because it feels so right to have her there with him, and he cannot for the life of him figure out why.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s3">There is the obvious whispers of </span> <em><span class="s2">soul</span></em> <span class="s3"> and </span> <em><span class="s2">complete</span></em><span class="s3">, but he refuses to accept it just like that.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s3">“I have always wanted to touch you like this”, she whispers, laying her head on his bed and gazing at him.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s3">Damian feels her breath tickle the tips of his fingers and that pull to gently touch her just as she does to him. </span> <span class="s3">He hesitantly caresses her cheeks to feel the supple softness of her skin, and she closes her eyes, wearing that small smile of hers.</span></p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s3">And Damian feels peace.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <h6>Chapter 1 quote from Chance the Rapper’s <a href="https://soundcloud.com/chancetherapper/angels-feat-saba">"Angels (ft. Saba)"</a>. This is interconnected from <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/21717499/chapters/51803272">a month of you</a>'s Angel!Marinette (set right after <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/21717499/chapters/52234675">Chapter 9</a>)</h6><p> <br/>Hi! I missed Maribat March, but I still wanted to try another prompt challenge, so here’s the ABC challenge. I know I should edit my other daminette fic, but it’s going to take some time for me to mentally prepare myself for that lol 🙃.</p><p>Still going to stay more in the DC/Batman or alternate universe rather than ml.</p><p>thanks for reading! with much love, may ♡</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. babel — never happened, but always are</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>B is for <i>Babel</i>.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong> <em>babel — </em>never happened, but always are</strong>
</p><hr/><p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p><p class="p1">“I don’t think I was supposed to meet you at all.”</p><p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p><p class="p1">It was a quiet whisper. Nonetheless, it punctuated the silence all the same.</p><p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p><p class="p1">“No”, Damian agrees, keeping his gaze on the city below them, but his attention on her. “We weren’t supposed to meet at all.”</p><p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p><p class="p1">Marinette nods, carefully lighting a cigarette and inhaling far too deeply than normal. Her pretty gloss stains the cigarette roll as the smoke curls around her smeared lips. There is a dull look in her eyes as it shines with tears that refuse to fall.</p><p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p><p class="p1">However, Damian can hardly bring himself to pity the woman for what he is doing to her.</p><p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p><p class="p1">“But I’m glad I did meet you”, she whispers, and he can hear the way her voice cracks on the last word.</p><p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p><p class="p1">She turns away, letting her loose strands curtain over her cheeks. He knows she does that when she wants to hide how her lips quiver or when she is blinking away tears.</p><p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p><p class="p1">There is a pathetic sniff, as she raises the cigarette to her lips again — only this time she blows the smoke out too fast before taking another hit.</p><p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p><p class="p1">From his peripheral, he can see the way her nails dig into her palm (a bad habit that only happens when she is far too anxious), and he almost unfurls them for her until he remembers that he has no right to touch her anymore.</p><p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p><p class="p1">“I—“ she begins, before trailing off. “Is this really going to be the last time I see you?”</p><p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p><p class="p1">Damian looks at her then, watching the way her body flinches when she receives his full attention. But Marinette hesitantly looks up at him with small hope in her eyes, and he knows that she wants some sign that he will return to her, just like he always had in the past two years, no matter how long the breaks were between each of his visits.</p><p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p><p class="p1">“Yes.”</p><p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p><p class="p1">But he has been preparing to crush it, just like he had always known he would.</p><p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p><p class="p1">The finality of his answer hits her just as he expected it to. Because Damian would say that he has her all figured out within the first night he had spent with her, and he has continued to know all of her little quirks and secrets by the next time he saw her.</p><p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p><p class="p1">He knows her far too well, even going so far as to predict the exact play-by-play of her actions tonight.</p><p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Another long drag of her cigarette.</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>A sniffle here and there disguised as a cough.</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>A look at him and a quick look away.</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>And finally — the parting words.</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p><p class="p1">“I like you, Tallant”, she confesses, and Damian does not react to the faux name she has called him for the past two years.</p><p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p><p class="p1">It is only a reminder that she does not know him at all.</p><p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p><p class="p1">“I’ll really miss you”, Marinette sighs, snubbing our the cigarette and tossing it in an empty flower pot. She walks back inside, but he doesn’t follow, already trusting her to leave his faux apartment — his faux life — just as quietly as she had entered it.</p><p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p><p class="p1">The door shuts, and it is quiet and dark like how it usually is. There are no traces of her.</p><p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p><p class="p1">Only an empty feeling Damian refuses to acknowledge.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The chapter title is inspired by a biblical story about the divide of people to keep them from reaching heaven. I just wanted to play on that whole angel/demon/divinity kind of thing, even though the story hardly relates to it 😅.</p>
<p>To make it clear, Damian is undercover and has this casual thing with Marinette. His fake identity<br/><i>Tallant</i> is homage to other Batman comics where Bruce and Talia's son is named that. I believe in another comic, Damian also names his son that.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. cosmos — we are star stuff</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>C is for <i>Cosmos</i>.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><i>mari — cancer, dami — leo</i>.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong> <em>cosmos — </em>we are star stuff </strong>
</p><hr/><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Do you know what time you were born?” Marinette asks, peering over her laptop screen.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Damian raises a brow behind his reading glasses at her random question. He subtly looks into the reflection of the window behind her — only to find that she is on one of those astrological sites that determine one’s personality. He mentally shakes his head and returns his focus back onto their shared assignment.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“9:12 PM.” He rolls his eyes, allowing her to slack off for a bit, not that he needed any more of her help. Marinette, a recent international transfer, had been assigned as his partner for an essay about some classic American literatures, and he can safely say that she was certainly not the <em>worst</em> classmates to be grouped with.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">On the few times he had to flake on their planned get-together (due to some vigilante duties), she managed to complete a majority of their paper with references and all. It pretty much left him with completing the last few paragraphs and some spell-checking and grammar issues.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">She purses her lips as her fingers type across the board, and Damian wants to sigh again as the window mirrors her scrolling straight towards the section titled <span class="s2"><em>sex &amp; love</em></span>.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">The girl gives a thoughtful hum, only serving to irk Damian and test his patience for her.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“What.” He glares at her, and it surprisingly does not have any effect on the Parisian girl. Either she fears no God or she is simply oblivious to other people’s emotions.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“You are overconfident which could lead to trouble with relationships with others”, Marinette reads aloud. “Humble yourself, and let others speak.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">An indignant snort leaves him, catching her confused attention.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Is something the matter?” she genuinely asks with a tilt of her head.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Nothing”, he tuts. “It is just that you really believe in all that bullshit?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Marinette sheepishly shrugs as she smiles softly.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“A little bit”, she turns back to her laptop screen. “Obviously, I don’t <em>stand</em> by these horoscopes, but they are often helpful.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“They’re broad and vague advice that can be applicable in any situations. Of course they are going to be ‘helpful’”, he retorts with a roll of his eyes. “Anything that is not falsifiable cannot be considered reliable. And any theory depending on the placement of moons and planets affecting human actions is absurd.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“I didn’t say all of that”, Marinette hums, smirking a bit while she reads over all the other categories dealing with power and pressure. “It’s just nice to believe in, you know? Like Greek Mythology, or — I don’t know — the Bible?"</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Besides I think it is a bit romantic”, she continues. Damian raises a brow.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“And what is so romantic about astrology other than basing your potential love interests off their birthday.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">It is Marinette’s turn to roll her eyes at his condescending demeanor, but she laughs at him, regardless.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“That we are all somehow part of this universal plan.” Marinette purses her lips, trying to think of the right words, waving her hands for emphasis. “Like we are made of the same starlight that had collided for the nth time only to have this moment as the planets had aligned us for.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“A bit melodramatic, aren’t you?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Shut up.” Marinette laughs at herself, as Damian smirks at her idiotic philosophical explanation. Her cheeks are flushed, and her eyes are alight with mirth.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“I was honestly just curious about you”, the girl continues with a shrug. “And I thought reading your horoscope will be like a synopsis to the ever mysterious <em>Damian Wayne</em>”.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Then, why don’t you just ask me, yourself, instead of some self-proclaimed astrologer on the internet”, he responds back only to be met with an unimpressed look.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“You’re kidding, right?” Marinette huffs. “You are definitely not the type to dive deep about your ‘troubles in sex and love’.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“There are other ways to get to know a person. And why would you want to know about my sex and love life?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Who doesn’t want to know about your sex and love life.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">He gives a light scowl that only causes her to burst into more giggles.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">It was preposterous to think that the solar system or any other higher being has a say in his choices.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">The actions and mistakes he has made, belong to him — <em>and him only</em>.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Damian has taken down many beings — Assassins, Metas, Demons, <em>everything</em>.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">He will be damned if he let the stars say he cannot take this Cancer girl out on another date just because he is a Leo.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I looked up their birthdates and found their astrological signs lol. I like astrology, and I know that the <i>true</i> purpose of it is to not stereotype/generalize people or use it as an excuse for one's own insecurities and toxicities; but it is mostly a guidance for life, like improving your intuition and self-awareness in this very energetic world. I am able to step back and see how far-fetched it sounds, yet, as I said before, it's fun to believe in.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. demons — damned if I do, damned if I don't</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>D is for <i>Demons</i>.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong> <em>demons — </em>damned if I do, damned if I don't </strong>
</p><hr/><p>A soft whimper floats around the room, and if he was not awake, finishing the last of his late night reading, he may have missed it.</p><p> </p><p>Stealthily, Damian rises from armchair and moves towards the source of the whines to where a small infant resides. She kicks at the cheap blanket as her face scrunches up in a prepared wail, but he shushes her with a tender stroke on her belly.</p><p> </p><p>“Is she all right?” He glances behind him to find Marinette rubbing the sleep out of her eyes as she prepares to leave their bed. Lately, his wife had been talking to him more — far more than when they had been forced to marry and live under his mother’s watchful eye.</p><p> </p><p>“She’s fine”, he whispers back, already watching the stress leave their daughter’s face. “Just fussy.”</p><p> </p><p>Once their daughter is fully calmed and sleeping, the assassin returns back to his wife, who watches him just as intensely. She does not flinch anymore, compared to when they were first introduced each other.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you for taking care of her”, Marinette responds, and it irks Damian to think that she is doing her a favor when everything he does is for their put-together family gifted by his mother.</p><p> </p><p>There was no love between the two, and there was no love in the creation of his daughter. His mother was the one to incorporate his genes with Marinette’s, just as how she had incorporated his father’s genes with her own. Only his daughter had grown in the womb rather than an incubator, unlike him.</p><p> </p><p>And that was due to his mother wanting to inhibit any of his plans for escape. Rather than stop it completely, it was merely delayed. After weeks of planning, Damian had luckily found a perfect opening to leave with Marinette undetected, despite her being heavily pregnant.</p><p> </p><p>It was a difficult task, and he is positive that his mother had figured it within an hour after their departure. Nonetheless, they succeeded for now and were hiding out in Jump City awaiting for the next course of his plan.</p><p> </p><p>Damian is so close to home.</p><p> </p><p>Yet, looking at his wife and child, he feels himself faltering to follow through and return to where his father awaits him.</p><p> </p><p>The realization dawns on him that he had taken out his family from one dangerous legacy to enter another. And the question runs through his mind if he could do this to Marinette and their daughter.</p><p> </p><p>“Damian”, she calls out, pulling him away from his self-brooding thoughts. Her hand reaches out to him, gently tugging on him to the bed where he sits by her side. Somewhere, he wonders on when they allowed these barriers to fall.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you for all that you have done”, she whispers. Her thumb follows the dips of his knuckles. “I— we’ll follow you.” She looks into his eyes with so much hope and resolution that it makes him angry at how naive she is for putting so much trust into him.</p><p> </p><p>“Even if I’m leading you into danger?” Damian bitterly asks, and there is a self-deprecating huff that follows. He lies down across her legs, bringing his hands to his face. An ache appears at his temple as he recognizes the guilt (that’s what it is — guilt) of taking them with him.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore”, he confesses behind muffled palms. Her knees slide out from under him, and he feels her presence hover over his slumped frame. His arms pull away to see that same resolved look on her face.</p><p> </p><p>“Even if you’re leading us to hell and back”, Marinette confirms. “We’ll be there with you.”</p><p> </p><p>Her promise reaches him, and it brings about another sense of regret and pity for putting her in this situation. Yet, there is also another feeling of relief. Without even meaning to, he leans up to press his lips against hers before pulling away.</p><p> </p><p>There is no shock or disgust on her face — only a light blush dust her cheeks as her lips turn up just the slightest. It is the first time she had ever smiled at him, and the selfish part of him wants to claim it all as his own.</p><p> </p><p>Marinette leans forward, pressing her forehead against his as she closes her eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re no demon, Damian al Ghul”, she whispers, but his lips are on hers again before she can even finish the thought.</p><p> </p><p>Because of course he was.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A continuation from <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/21717499/chapters/51803272">a month of you</a>'s Damian al Ghul au (<a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/21717499/chapters/52235665">Chapter 13</a> &amp; <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/21717499/chapters/52235740#workskin">Chapter 14</a>). :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. evanescent — we are not lost</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>E is for <i>Evanescent</i>.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong> <em>evanescent — </em>we are not lost </strong>
</p>
<hr/><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Last week, Marinette awoke to a nurse by her bedside and the too harsh fluorescent lighting.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">In her exhausted and heavily drugged state, he spoke calmly to her, explaining how there was an accident that she happened to be the victim of, which lead her comatose state for nearly three weeks.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">The nurse was kind, yet, Marinette could see the pitiful look in his eye as he read out her physical condition in layman's terms.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">It did not sit easy with her, and she could not help but feel that his smile is supposed to be... brighter...</p><p class="p1"> </p>
<hr/><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Her doctor, who seemed to be a prodigy given his youthful appearance, comes in almost everyday. By now, Marinette memorized his routine.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>Check the notes left by Duke — her nurse and the very first person she had met since her accident.</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>Re-check her vitals.</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>Take a long swig from his coffee mug, that never seems to leave his hand.</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>Ask how she is doing.</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“How are you doing, Marinette?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Fine, thank you for asking, Doctor Drake.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>Now, he is going to ask if she remembers anything from the accident and the weeks that lead up to that.</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Any updates about the accident or anything before?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“No, Doctor Drake.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Ah, well it can’t be helped. The mind really is a complex thing. Don’t push yourself too hard, Marinette.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>And then, he leaves, unaware of her inner turmoil at her amnesia.</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">When she first met Doctor Drake, he had simply re-explained the situation Duke had told her, in a more formal manner, giving her diagnosis that she suffered a traumatic brain injury and was medically induced to stop the swelling.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Marinette, who finally received the strength to speak, had admitted that she does not remember the accident or anything prior.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">The last thing she recalls was closing the cat cafe, where she works, after a special promotion on the national cat holiday. But according to them and the date, that was nearly a month ago.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><em>“That’s very... convenient”, Doctor Drake murmured before directly speaking to her. </em> <em>“I surmise that you may be experiencing retrograde amnesia. But we’ll run some more MRIs and other tests to rule out other possible factors.”</em></p><p class="p1"> </p>
<hr/><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">After the tests confirmed her diagnosis, her stay at the hospital had been extended for another two weeks. Within that time, she only had brief déjà vu moments of what she assumed was her “lost time”, yet, none of it made sense.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“What doesn’t make sense, Marinette?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">She blinks up from the rabbit hole that she had fallen into, registering that she was in the psychiatric ward of the hospital. Her therapist, Doctor Kyle, patiently smiles at her as the girl just realizes that she had been rambling again.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Any of it, I suppose”, Marinette shrugs as her fingers unconsciously plays with her hospital gown.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“I feel like time stopped after I left the cafe”, she begins, laying out all the pieces. “Not only did I lose my memories, but I haven’t received any messages or calls on my phone since that day. And apparently, my manager told me how I had used some of my PTO for personal reasons.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Marinette pauses and glances at the woman, but she merely nods for her to continue.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Even my neighbors, who I hardly talk to, said I haven’t been home during my ‘lost time’. And that doesn’t sound like me because I recently moved to this city, and what would I do here other than work?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Doctor Kyle hums, her lips curling in understanding amusement.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“That<em> is</em> a mystery”, she agrees. “Do you think it’s possible that something big happened since that day which forced you to put your life on halt?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“I — think so”, Marinette hesitates in answering, shrugging as she settles on that thought. “But there’s just no evidence of it. Even my bank account shows no transactions since I left work.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Oh I wouldn’t be too sure of that”, Doctor Kyle lightly chuckles. “Sometimes the absent of proof is evidence itself.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Before Marinette could think it through, her therapist asks her another question that causes the younger woman to fluster.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“You mentioned these 'recognitions'? Do you want to talk me through what’s going on there?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“It’s — it’s really weird”, she admits. Her eyes end up on the adorable cat ceramic that sits on Doctor Kyle’s desk.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“We’re in Gotham, Marinette”, the older woman smiles. “I’m sure there have been more strange happenings.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">She chuckles at that, meeting the woman’s patient gaze again.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“It’s like— I feel this familiar sense of adrenaline, you know? Like every time I stare at the city's skyline or even just watching the news about all the crime. I feel like I should be there, even though I-I don't even know what to do. But I haven’t really done anything to warrant that kind of excitement and need for senseless endangerment.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Again, Doctor Kyle hums, but Marinette catches the way a perfect brow raises over the frame of her glasses and how the corner of her smile turns up into a knowing smirk.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“You sure about that?”</p><p class="p1"> </p>
<hr/><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">Her room opens with an obnoxious slam, as a man in a blue jumpsuit enters with a large trash bin and other cleaning supplies. Marinette huffs at how unrestrained the custodian is as he bangs all his equipment in every possible furniture and wall. </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Hey kid”, The man grins, tossing the trash of sterilized gloves and used tissues in the larger bin.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Hi Jason.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“I heard from Duke that you’re being discharged from the hospital tomorrow.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“I am." Marinette purses her lips in displeasure at the lack of progress in regaining her memories. With an exaggerated sigh, she flops back down on her bed, feeling it bounce a bit at her sudden weight. “I don’t know why I was even kept here for another week though.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Beats me.” Jason drops into the chair beside her bed, leaving the cleaning supplies in the center of the room. “You going back to that cat cafe?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“I need to”, She sighs. “I still don’t know why I left in the first place. And my sessions with Doctor Drake and Doctor Kyle don't seem to be taking me anywhere closer to the truth.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Eh. You should look at this as a blessing in disguise.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“What do you mean?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“I’m just saying." Jason shrugs, propping his elbows onto his knees. “Maybe you shouldn’t dwell on what you did within that month before your memory loss.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“But”, Marinette pouts, surprised at how thoughtless his advice was. Ever since he decided to bang on her hospital room in the middle of the night, she felt like she could trust this genuine, yet, unprincipled cleaner is. But now, he seems to be disregarding all their conversations and complaints about what happened in her 'lost time'. “I <em>want</em> to know. I need to, actually. It feels like I'm missing something more than just my memories, you know?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Yeah.” His grin thins down into a small, sorry smile that she sees Duke wear often. “It will come to you when it comes to you. But for now, just let it go.”</p><p class="p1"> </p>
<hr/><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">Marinette dresses herself in an unfamiliar black sweater and beige plaid skirt. According to Duke, that is what she was wearing when she first came to the hospital, and it has been washed and cleaned just for her departure.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">She almost has a heart attack when she realizes that it is genuine Burberry and Chanel. Despite her wondering where the hell she got it from, she keeps her mouth shut on the chances that her clothes may have been mistake with another patient.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Ready, Marinette?” Duke knocks on the other side of the door, causing her to jump as she shoves her feet in the leather heeled booties. (She almost shrieks in joy at the recognition of the smooth red bottoms.)</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Ready!” Her mood automatically deflates when she spots Duke enter, smiling brightly as he rolls in a wheelchair.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Do I have to?” She looks at the clunky thing, and back down to the designer shoes that she wishes to strut around in.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Think of it as your chariot." He tries to lighten tries, chuckling at her look of utter rejection. Nevertheless, the girl pouts and sits down in the chair, feeling her face flush at having to be pushed around. It wasn't enough that they had to enforce her to undergo all those tests and extend her stay. Now, they had to ruin her outfit and confidence by not letting her walk out of there on her own will.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Doctor Drake meets them as Duke pushes her down the hallway, already discussing her prescriptions and final recommendations.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“I’m prescribing you pain medication for when you feel any migraines”, he drones on, handing her a paper bag. They’ve reached the elevators, and she hardly notices how it is already occupied by two men in suits.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">They make room for them as Duke carefully aligns her in the empty space while Doctor Drake follows.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Be sure to let me know if you’re feeling any serious headaches, and visit an ER immediately if it persists.” The doctor hands her a card, that she places into her pockets.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Is anyone picking you up”, Duke asks from behind her.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“No, I’m using a ride share." She turns to look at him, accidentally meeting the gaze of the younger man in the suit. His eyes are a sharp green and he keeps a straight-laced expression even when her mouth falls at the sight of him.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">Something about him manages to bring her pulse racing. Flashes of maroon, dark green, and yellow cross her mind, but it is too fast for her to decipher the meaning behind it all.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">The man raises a brow at her, before promptly ignoring her.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">She flushes, embarrassed to have been caught staring. Judging from their aura, the girl could tell that they may be very important people to the hospital. Yet, Marinette feels something else, when she looks at his intimidating frame. There is a sense of familiarity in the way his brow furrows or how he purses his lips to keep from scowling. But wait. Why does she know that —</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">A slight headache appears at the back of her temple, and she reaches up to gently touch it, reminded of how something had hit her so hard that she had forgotten something — or rather, <em>someone —</em> important to her. She is tempted to look back at him again until Doctor Drake pulls her back down from her inner turmoil.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Marinette?” Her nurse and doctor stare at her in concern and she notices how... tense the atmosphere has gotten.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Just as she begins to wonder if the suited men could feel it, too, the elevator dings, signaling that their arrival to the lobby.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">From the corner of her eye, the older man in the suit — who could possibly pass for the other man's father — gestures for them to leave first, and they hurriedly oblige, rolling her out and towards the exits.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“As I was saying”, Doctor Drake continues. “I recommend visiting Doctor Kyle to see if you could recall anything.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Marinette nods along absentmindedly as the exit comes closer and closer. Half taking in her doctor’s final words, her mind is mostly preoccupied by the noticeable clicks of the suited men’s loafers.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">It takes every nerve in her body to resist the urge to turn around and watch the green eyed man again. But that's weird isn't it? It's weird to look at a man, she is <em>so damn</em> sure she has met, spoken, and laughed with before.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“It was a pleasure meeting you, Marinette”, Doctor Drake says, and suddenly, they are outside. There’s an old SUV, that she recognizes as her ride share, haphazardly parked out on the curb in front of a nicer sedan with an older man holding the rear door open for the suited men.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“You too”, she stutters out, before smiling gratefully at her physician and nurse. “Thank you for taking care of me.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Duke ruffles her hair while Doctor Drake nods politely. She carefully stands up under their watchful eye, and gives them one final wave as she greets her driver — a pretty blond woman with wavy hair.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">As she closes the door, she catches sight of the green eyed man through the window, and she knows for certain that she was indeed under his discomforting scrutiny. And for some reason, she is not surprised by that.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Not knowing what to do, she smiles softly at him, raising her hand in a small wave. But he looks to the side, and the moment is gone, just as her driver pulls them away from the curb.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">And Marinette feels an unexplainable pang in her heart.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>idk if it makes sense, but Marinette is basically going through the motions of being hospitalized after an accident that caused her amnesia and the batfam is hovering over her in disguise because she was harmed under their care. I want to leave it open so I could incorporate a sequel and/or prequel explaining how she got involved and what exactly happened that lead to her accident.</p><p>But yes — Duke is her nurse; Tim is her main doctor; Selina is her therapist; Jason is the friendly janitor; Damian and Bruce were the suited men in the elevator; and Stephanie is her ride share driver.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. faithful — or, blindly waiting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>F is for <i>Faithful</i>.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong><em>faithful </em>— or, blindly waiting</strong>
</p><hr/>
<p class="p1">With ever careful hands, Mari removes the weeds growing on the small statue to reveal smoothly carved out bird with a mischievous smile. What was once a clean slate, grey is now stained with a mossy green. She makes a note to bring down a bucket of water, so she can properly cleanse this small overlooked shrine.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Not many were aware of the little bird kami that resided in this statue even before the battle. It was a little out of the way from the path of the town’s main shrine where she, along with the other mikos and priests reside. Nonetheless, it was still the symbol of a god that needed to be worshipped and respected.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Oftentimes, she would wonder why she would be the one to purify and bring offerings to the Bird Kami. Yet, as she prayed, she would feel the gentlefolks breeze caress the loose strands that were unable to be kept in her ties, and there were whispers of promise that her loyalty would be heard.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">That her wish for <em>something amazing</em> to happen will be answered.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Mari did not expect it to come in the form of a boy in too bright colors of maroon, green, and gold.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">He had been whispering to a monkey that seemed just as engaged in the conversation of excited whispers and grins, as they sat in from of the bird kami.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Perhaps she should have made her presence known, but one false misstep on a fallen branch resulted in a tip of a blade at her throat and for the stranger boy to glare directly at her. Yet, in all of Mari’s delayed shock, she was saddened to see the monkey had leapt away from his companion and into a tree, eyeing her wearily.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Don’t hide, please”, she pouted up at the adorable monkey, despite, the boy pressing the blade to her throat. It was cold and sharp, but Mari ignored it, choosing her next words innocently.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“You said his name was Monkichi?” She asked, silently relieved as he swiftly drops his weapon, yet, he still glares at her. “I heard you call him that when you were petting him. How did you do that, by the way?”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Do what”, he said, strapping the blade back to his side. Mari smiled at him, ignoring the way he looks and talks with her in that condescending manner. Instead, she nears the tree, reaching a hand out to the monkey that still eyes her with trepidation.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Befriend him”, Mari answered. Her smile broadened as the animal hesitantly sniffed her fingers, before slowly retreating.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Food”, the boy answered curtly, and Marinoted the slight, unfamiliar accent. “Like any pet owner does.”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Ah.” She lowers her hand, turning towards the boy glaring down at her. He was still on edge, his hands still hovering over the blade by his side. “But there is more to that, isn’t there?”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">His jaw tenses, before he grits out something meant to sound threatening.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“And what makes you say that?” He nears her, but Mari opts to remain oblivious to his hostility.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“There’s more compassion in your eyes when you talk with him than you do with me. It seems much more than an interaction between pet and owner, but rather a conversation between companions.”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Well I hardly know you”, he countered. The monkey takes his chance to softly land on the boy’s shoulders, and the sight almost makes her want to laugh.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“That is true”, she agreed, cautiously moving around him to the small shrine. The Miko feels his gaze follow her, but she feels that she had bothered the traveller enough for today.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Are you a Miko?”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“I am.” Her hands remove some of the moss around the figure, and she made a note to take down a bucket of water to properly clean it later. She could feels his inquisitive stare, as she claps and places her palms together in silent prayer.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">When she gives her thanks, she opens her eyes to find the boy and the monkey, both wearing similar perplexed faces.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Who is this god?” he asks, lacking that intimidating tone.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">But Mari could only shrug at his answer.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“I’m not too sure. I’ve found this god a few months ago, and have been the only one visiting and praying. I’m guessing that others may have forgotten it, once the larger shrine started getting more popular with the town.”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Well, why do you keep doing it, if the others do not?” He leaned forward, analyzing the statue.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Why shouldn’t I?” She counters amused at how genuinely curious the boy is. “I’m sure the god appreciates the company.”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">The next day, she finds him and his pet monkey again by the statue. He patiently waits for her to clean up the bird and silently pray, before he begins what Mari calls his little “interrogation” that usually consist of him asking about the townspeople or unusual things.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“I heard some of the visitors at the shrine gossip about some new shoguns”, Mari answered, sitting down carefully on another mossy rock. “Apparently, they have the looks and powers of gods.”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Are you not scared of that?” The boy asks.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Not sure.” Monkichi suddenly leapt onto her lap, sniffing at the hidden pocket she had sewn into her hakama. She huffs in faux defeat, as she pulls out a mandarin orange, handing it to the intrusive, furry creature.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">The boy was just about to scold the monkey until it bites into fruit and makes a delighted noise at the taste.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">They had developed a routine, to meet at the bird shrine and talk. Almost always, he was the first to arrive, and went so far as to clean the figure and pray with her. Sometimes, they would talk of the new shoguns and the growing restlessness of the town as more and more unfamiliar samurais ventured through their town. But oftentimes, their talks would consist of quips and curious questions about the other. Or, maybe it was mostly her prying into his life.</p>
<p class="p1"> </p><hr/>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <em>“Where can I find silk like yours? The colors are very bright.”</em>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <em>“Its not silk. It’s a special cloth to protect me in battle.”</em>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <em>“So, you’re a samurai, then?”</em>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <em>“Not quite.”</em>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <em>“Ah. A ronin.”</em>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p><hr/>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <em>“You’re quite fond of the mandarins, aren’t you? Monkichi seems to get that from you.”</em>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <em>“I like other fruits.”</em>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <em>“Yet, out of all the food I brought, you managed to eat half of the mandarins.”</em>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <em>“That’s your fault. You should have brought more.”</em>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p><hr/>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <em>“What part of the country do you live in? I’ve never really heard an accent quite like yours?”</em>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <em>“Somewhere far. Now, stop asking me questions, and describe the samurais again. Did they look like penguins?”</em>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <em>“…What’s a penguin.”</em>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p><hr/>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <em>“Monkichi, please, tell your stubborn owner not to be mad at me. I promise to bring more mandarins tomorrow.”</em>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <em>“Monkichi, please, tell this useless miko that she needs to give me her share of mandarins after she carelessly stepped on mine.”</em>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <em>“It was an accident.”</em>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <em>“An unneeded accident that could have been avoided.”</em>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p><hr/>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <em>“Will you come by tomorrow?”</em>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <em>“…I’m not sure.”</em>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <em>“That’s fine. I’ll wait for you.”</em>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <em>“…”</em>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <em>“And for Monkichi.”</em>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p><hr/>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <em>“You’re here! It’s been over a month! I missed you! What have you been doing? Where have you been? Are you—“</em>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <em>“Mari.”</em>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <em>“Yes? What’s the matter?”</em>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <em>“Stay at the shrine. Don’t come out until the battle is over.”</em>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <em>“I— Are you fighting?”</em>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <em>“…I am— what are you doing. Don’t grab me so suddenly, Mari.”</em>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <em>“Shut up and pray with me, okay?”</em>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <em>“…Okay.”</em>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <em>“You, too, Monkichi.”</em>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p><hr/>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">The boy has not come back since the day, he had warned her of the battle, yet, Marinette has returned to the bird figure ever since, clutching a few of the fresher mandarins.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">She followed the routine of cleaning and praying, ignoring how her routine before she met her friend had become something so mundane and unsatisfying.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">And as always, she prays. But instead of praying for something amazing, she prays for <em>him </em><span class="s1"><em>—</em></span> for his health, his safety, and for him to<em> just be alive </em>somewhere, even if it is not with her.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">There is a familiar squeaks coming from the tree, and just when she snaps her head from the source, she is met with a body full of fur. She gently pries the laughing monkey, giggling just as excited, as he hangs off her wrist.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Monkichi!” she cries in relief. Because Monkichi visits means that he is okay. He is alive. And he is here.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">She searches the forest, looking for that bright maroon, green, and gold yukata.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Where is he, Monkichi?” She asks, but the little monkey only favors in clinging and swinging on her limp, squeaking in excitement. He is undeterred by the way her smile dims at the realization that he is not there.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“I see.” Mari looks down, aware of how her eyes begin to itch and the heavy weight in her chest. But Monkichi brings her attention back onto him, as his eyes switch between her and the tree above the bird god.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">She follows suit, finally hearing the other squeaks of another animal, only for another curious monkey to near her wearily.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">The interaction makes her want to cry and laugh all at once, at how she recognizes this situation, only this time there is no scowling boy by her side.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Oh Monkichi”, she sighs, or rather, takes in a much needed breath to calm the tightness in her heart. The two monkeys move to embrace, their smiles mirroring one another. “She’s lovely.”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">She leaves a mandarin orange by the bird kami and offers the remaining few to the other monkeys, who accept it gratefully.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">They squeak at her in thanks, before returning up higher and higher into the trees and away from the miko.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">She forces another bright and dimpled smile and prays again for his safe travels — to wherever he has gone.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I tried to do a <i>Batman Ninja (2018)</i> au, where Damian meets and befriends Mari, who is a shrine priestess, throughout his time in Edo Japan until his return to present day. He is supposed to be aged up a bit (and not have <i>that</i> haircut). His character is pretty oc in the movie, so I thought I'd play on his friendliness and not make him so skeptical of others.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. godsend — let go of my claim on you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>G is for <i>Godsend<i>.</i></i></p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <strong><em>godsend</em> — let go of my claim on you</strong>
</p>
<hr/><p class="p1">Nights like these were the ones that called for sneaking into the manor’s parlor and to drink until he was physically unable to <span class="s1">— </span>whether it was the alcohol poisoning or Alfred’s chastising — he was prepared to face the consequences because he could not face the nightmares that had come to haunt him once again.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Damian had thought he overcame them. The feeling of drowning in blood and acid and the bitter, burning tastes of the Lazarus pits. All while the eyes of his mother and grandfather grin so viciously down at him, as if they were immune to the screeches and pleas for forgiveness from sinners alike.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">It felt like centuries had gone by as he was tested and pushed over every conceivable limit. Emotionally, mentally, spiritually, they had broken him again and again. And he was strong enough to overcome them, even becoming desensitized to some of its tortures until they had so sickeningly managed to form new ways to hurt and break him again.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">He wished he did not deserve to go there, reasoning that he had no choice in the matter, that he was bred and raised to contribute to some of the world’s evils.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">But the pathetic and weak part of him, the one that still remains in <em>that</em> place, always argues that he still committed those sins and had even taken pleasure in doing so.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Damian takes a long drink, straight from the bottle, grimacing at how the alcohol only seems to emphasize the lasting bitterness in his mouth.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Of course, he rolls eyes irritably as he downs to remaining cognac in the bottle. He cannot even have the simple pleasure of getting drunk and temporarily forgetting his woes.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">How fucking unfair.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Another nightmare?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Damian launches the hidden knife from the chair without any hesitation, cursing when it does not meet its intended mark, only embedding itself in the portrait on the wall. Rght by the intruder.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">In that minute, multiple things cross his mind, such as how he may be forced to repaint another portrait to replace the one he ruined in his inebriated state, why the alarms did not set anything off at the intruder, and who exactly was this woman sitting on the love chair of the parlor.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Who are you, and how’d you get in here”, He all but growled at her, reaching for another of the hidden blades. This one hiddenin the side table.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Marinette.” The girl smiles childishly up at him, resting her chin on her knees. Damian is able to get a good look at her, eyeing the way her gray eyes shine too brightly in the dim lights, and how she is only dressed in a short plain gown with no shoes.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“And you let me in here.” Damian squints at her, appalled that she would take him for a fool.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“You’re lying.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“No”, she elongates the vowel, as if she were an actual child caught red-handed.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“You have five seconds to tell the truth, before I launch another blade at you. Now, tell me who sent you and why you’re here.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“A higher being sent me, and I’m here for you, Damian”, Marinette replies with a cheeky grin. She easily evades the knife aimed at her with a tilt of her head, and Damian curses at having missed again, already mentally searching for one of Jason’s old firearms hidden under the coffee table.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“I’m here because you keep having nightmares about that place, Damian.” And for the first time in the night, the girl sounds earnest, and possibly even apologetic. “You shouldn’t be having those, anymore. You shouldn’t have had them in the first place.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Why do you know about that”, he asks slowly, breathing in to keep from attacking her. “I hardly told anyone. Not many are even aware that I had—“</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Went to hell?” She finishes for him, without waiting for a response. “You were a special case, unlike your brother. I sort of believe that there may have been someprejudice with you from the get-go, given your grandfather and stuff.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Damian slams his hand flatly against the table, interrupting her ramblings.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Why do you know this”, he says, gritting out every word. He watches as her lips press into each other before opening and then closing.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“I thought it was obvious”, she says, trying for humor. “I’m an angel that works for the big person up in the sky.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Her thin finger points up for emphasis. But Damian feels his eyes twitch because she should not be here, not when he had shunned everything she had stood for.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Of course, Damian had worked all of his resurrected life to become a better person, but not for the goal of entering a paradise above, but to fix this hellhole on earth. He could care less about the judgment of some divinity, not after what they had let him gone through.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Get out.” He doesn’t wait for her to reply, as he launches another knife that he had recovered from the lamp near him. But once again, she easily dodges it.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Damian.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“No.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“I’m not here to follow the orders of the God you despise so much”, she cuts hims off.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Then, for the third fucking time, why are you here.” He glares at her, but she shrugs it off.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“I’m here to make sure that you would never go there again”, Marinette promises, almost pleading with him to believe her. And for some reason, he does. An unexplainable warmth fills his chest as he breathes out a sigh of relief.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Why would you do that?” He asks, still weary of her and her intentions. She sighs, leaning back on the seat. Her eyes trail back up to the stars with something of admiration and disappointment all at once.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Because we both know you didn’t deserve to go there.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <h6>Chapter 7 title quote from Frank Ocean’s <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P18g4rKns6Qt"><i>Godspeed</i></a>.</h6><p> <br/>another GuardianAngel!Marinette au! found out Damian wasn't allowed into heaven, but I want to fix it with this and the next chapter. :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. (seventh) heaven — inhale, in hell, there’s…</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>H is for <i>Heaven</i>.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1"><em> <strong>(seventh) </strong> </em> <strong><em>heaven</em> — inhale, in hell, there’s…</strong></p>
</blockquote><hr/><p class="p1">Damian was never really one for parties, opting to substitute his time with some last minute vigilantism instead of entertaining guests and associates with that practiced smile and natural charisma.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">And, yet, here he was. At a typical middle to high-class house party, under the guise of Damian Wayne — <em>ward of the fucking Bruce Wayne</em> — wanting to fuck around with his schoolmates. But in reality, he was keeping an eye on a student, whose family was threatened by one of Falcone’s men just the other day.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Instead of well-tailored tuxedoes, he wore his typical casual outing clothes of straight, cuffed jeans, a loose tee and a sleek aviator jacket, paired with a plain-jane watch and some high-end sneakers. He would dare say that he was the definition of a rich boy “failing” to look like a… not rich boy given how all his articles of clothing were designer, or nearing five hundred to one grand.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">He could already feel the subtle glares and sneers of his peers as they surrounded him in a poor attempt to involve him in conversation and look cooler for hanging out with the “Prince of Gotham”.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Ain’t that right, Wayne?” One of his classmates from homeroom nudged him red solo cup in hand as he managed to pull the teen from his thoughts.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Yet, Damian, only raised his eyes in response, giving a noncommittal hum as he drank from his own solo cup, and <em>oh shit— that was an IPA, wasn't it</em>.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">The son of his father's associate and a coincidental schoolmate slung an arm around him, reeking of the cheap beer and teenage sweat.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Really glad you’re here, Wayne”, he slurred, swaying a bit. Damian gritted his teeth, reluctantly choosing to stable his classmate instead of knocking him out. “Thought you were born with a stick in your ass, but really— you’re one of the boyssss!! Ayyyyeeee!”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">He finished, elongating the last words, causing his other classmates to follow suit in their cheers for him. The surrounding teens in their group began to lightly slap his back and rub his shoulder, as they started to chant his last name.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Soon enough, most of the people in the foyer joined the chorus of <em>Wayne! Wayne! Wayne!</em>, egging him on.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Maybe, it was the juvenile and pathetic off-beat of his name along with the heavy bass of the speakers, but Damian decided to chug the rest of his beer, raising the empty cup as the crowd exploded into louder cheers and more whoops.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Damian allowed himself to smirk at that.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">An hour later, he wouldn’t say that he was drunk, but he was a lot more energetic and open about his rude ass personality.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Shut the fuck up, Rivera”, he snickered, leaning back into the couch after he placed a perfect hand down, winning the bets of loose change (hundred dollar bills, in their case), used juuls (that he’ll probably toss or plant into Jason’s hideout), and including his own credit card (like he’ll ever lose that one).</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Fuck you, Wayne.” The losing boy in question snarled, chugging the last of his beer, before tossing it carelessly onto the stained floors and leaving to the keg on the tiny balcony.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“I’m good”, he called out, collecting his winnings while chuckling at the raised middle finger directed at him. He noticed how the student he was supposed to babysit, lied blacked out drunk in the middle of the kitchen floor, surrounded by other teenagers chatting and choosing to ignore the student’s inconvenient sleeping arrangement. Damian took the chance to casually get a bottled water, stepping over stains of spilled beer and vomit, along with the fallen guts of backwood cigars and loose marijuana buds.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">As unconcerned as he could, he kneeled down, pressing two fingers into his target’s neck to feel the usual beat of his pulse. He inwardly breathed a sigh of relief at how they have not died of alcohol poisoning. But even if they did, Damian was only responsible for making sure none of Falcone’s men had killed them.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Are they alive?” He looked up, finding one of his classmates that he recognized as the recent international exchange student. <em>Marinette, was it?</em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Yeah”, he shrugged, standing up to find that he now has to look down to her. <em>Wow, was she really short</em>. “Just blacked out.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Do you need help moving them?” She asked with a tilt of her head. <em>And wow, that was kinda cute.</em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Nah, I was thinking of leaving them here.” Despite him being completely serious, the transfer laughed at his comment, taking it as a joke. Not that he minded. There was some sort of pride in making her laugh. She kneeled beside the knocked out body, carefully taking some of their weight and leaning them against her shoulder.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Grab their right side”, she chuckled, unaware of how Damian internally sighed at her inconvenient helpfulness. Yet, he still obliged, taking most of the deadweight. “I cleared one of the bedrooms upstairs, so they could sleep it off.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">He could have easily carried his target’s weight and then some, but that would catch some more unwanted attention than he would like.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“I didn’t know you were friends with them like that, Wayne”, Marinette huffed, blowing some of her loose hair away from her face as the two carefully walked up the stairs, avoiding the empty beer bottles and feet of other drunken guests.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“I’m not.” Damian allowed himself to roll his eyes that time, grateful that they finally reached the second floor. Marinette took the lead, guiding them to what they could assume was the parent’s master bedroom of this poor bastard’s house. No doubt that it would be trashed by tomorrow morning. “I think they’re a fucking idiot that doesn’t know when to stop drinking.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">She laughed again, and Damian smirked at the way she snorted at his dry humor. Carelessly, he dropped the body onto the bed, and she gently turned them onto their side until he caught her wrinkling her nose.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“What”, he asked, shutting the door behind the trio. Luckily, it muted the ongoing of the party, leaving them in a relaxed silence.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“I don’t like shoes on the bed”, she answered, frowning.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Just leave it on”, Damian sighed, sliding down against the wall and onto the floor. “You never know when they need to leave suddenly, and it’s better to keep all their shit together.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“I guess.” Yet, she sat down beside him, to his subtle surprise.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Anyways, what made you come to a party, Wayne?” She grinned. “I didn’t think you were the type to show up to these.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Why do you care so much, Marinette?” He sighed, half-paying attention to her and his target, and half-paying attention to the beginnings of a drunken fight outside the room. He should put a stop to it, but thought better of it. Too many phones and cameras will be out, and he did not want to risk his face going viral if something crazy and/or humiliating happens.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“I like that”, she smiled, and Damian noticed how her cheeks have brighten with a red hue on as she grinned at him. “The way you said my name, that is.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Well, aren’t you straightforward?” He huffed out a laugh at her.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Shut up”, she chuckled. “And you didn’t answer my question, <em>Damian</em>. Why are you even here?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">He laughed at the way she emphasized his name (and he somewhat agreed that he liked to hear his name come out of her mouth, too).</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Just wanted to change things up, I guess”, he said, closing his eyes and leaning back. The party seemed to have been getting rowdier and rowdier as the unnecessary cheers and taunts grew.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">It was kind of dumb, expecting the night to not turn out something like this. That aloof persona he tried to put up, failed the minute he decided to skip out on his vigilante attire.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">In reality, it would have been easier to simply survey the party from an adjacent rooftop.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">But the sensationalized immoral acts of high schoolers had always intrigued him, and maybe, it was time to live out the wild life just a little.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Wanted to ‘slum it up’, huh?” She rolled her eyes, but he did not miss the edge in her voice.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“What do you mean”, he said, already aware of what she along with everyone else had been implying.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Exactly that, you wanted to get dirty with people who make less than your whole family does”, she said, lightly nudging him.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“That’s practically everyone”, he countered with a raise of his brow, only for her to snort out a laugh.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“You got me there”, she said between snickers. “But I still don’t really understand what brought on this change. From what I was told, you always seemed like the epitome of “stuck-up” at GA.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Does it matter? I’m here, and I’m just trying to have a good time at my first high school party.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Really?” Marinette questioned skeptically. “This is your first party?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Did the rumors forget to tell you that I'm the ward of Bruce Wayne? I'm like a walking money sign for paparazzi and the Rogue's.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“I wasn’t aware of that, but wow, your first big boy party, huh?” She laughed, quickly lightening up the mood. “Was it everything you expected it to be?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Eh, it was cool”, he shrugged. “The poker was fun, and the alcohol was passable.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“That’s good”, the girl genuinely smiled at him. “I’m glad you had fun, Damian. Maybe you’ll show up more to these things.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“I’m still having fun”, Damian admitted, curling the corners of his mouth. “You’re decent company, Marinette.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">A weight fell on his shoulder, and he peered down, satisfied to see her there with a serene look on her face.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Getting comfortable?” He teased.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“No.” She confidently raised her head to meet his gaze, allowing him to feel her breath on his neck. “I’m making a move on you.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Damian felt his grin broaden, and just when he was about to lean down, a groan comes from the bed.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Marinette snapped her head to the bed, concern written on her face for their blacked out companion, while Damian sighed, before chuckling at how cliche it was to have their moment ruined.</p><p class="p1">His laugh caught her attention again, causing her to burst into her ugly snorts and giggles.</p><p class="p1"> </p><hr/><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>“Police!”</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>“Oh shit! Five-oh! Five-oh!”</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>“Is that fucking Batman?”</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>“Fuck! Move! Move!”</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>“We got one kid blacked out in the master bedroom and two more in the closet.”</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Damian did his best to not look at his masked father and smirking brother as he was brought out onto the street in handcuffs along with the many unfortunate teens like him, who were unable to escape the police's clutches in time. Many of his peers were either swearing, crying, or sleeping on the sidewalk they were placed on. Either way, they were all illegally drunk.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">In the matter of the five minutes that they heard of the cops crashing the party and all of the teenagers cursing and running away, he and Marinette did their best to pull themselves together after a heated make-out session in the closet for some privacy away from their snoring classmate.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Yet, in between the moments that he pulled on his shirt and jacket, Marinette resumed to kiss him in between, as she readjusted her skirt and sweater, right before the closet door opened to reveal unimpressed police officers nodding for them to get out.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Under the streetlights, he could see the smudge of her brown lip gloss on her kiss bruised lip. As her shoulders shake with silent, uncomfortable laughter, he caught the glimpse of his love marks blossoming under the loose collar of her sweater. He could imagine that he didn’t look that much better, especially, with how his shirt was inside-out.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“It’s the Wayne kid”, one of the rookie officers whispered behind him, and Damian almost whipped his head around to glare at the guffaw that came from Grayson’s mouth.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Can’t believe we have to take him and thirty other brats to the station,” another officer complained.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">From the corner of Damian’s eye, he watched as his target was carelessly tossed into the back of a cop car — the same one Marinette was lead into.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Someone stood next to him, and he slightly flinched, feeling the angry aura coming off from <em>the</em> man in the cape. Grayson lead the officers away in conversation, still wearing that same smirk.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“You turned off your communicator”, his father monotoned in that infamous vigilante voice.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“I did.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Why.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“I was having fun.” They’re both silent for a moment, until a breath of air escaped from the masked man's nose, and Damian realized that his father had just laughed at him.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">The cowled vigilante rested a hand on his shoulder, guiding him to the same police car that Marinette sat in.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Falcone’s men have been dealt with, so there is no need to keep trailing your target.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Understood. Will you get me from the station”, Damian whispered quietly as they pass the unassuming officers and groaning teenagers.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Yes”, his father confirmed. “I’ll even sign out your friend and have Alfred prepare a room for her, as well. I’d doubt the host family would like to pick her up from jail.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Damian smirked at that, rolling his eyes at the world’s greatest detective.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“That won’t be necessary.” The two stopped in front of the police car. Marinette smiled encouragingly up at him through the window, and he returned it, still wearing that overconfident look on his face, even when he met his father’s gaze head on.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“She’ll be sleeping in my room.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <h6> Chapter 8 Title from Frank Ocean's <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X_SEwgDl02E"><i>Solo</i></a>.</h6><p>get it? damian went to heaven this time because of that outdated high school party game of "seven minutes in heaven" where you try to kiss your crush in the closet, which is what the chapter title is also based on even though they didn't play it? yes? no? yes. bye lol.</p><p>update (07.29):<br/>Part 2 in <a href="#section0011">Chapter 11</a><br/>Part 3 in <a href="#section0018">Chapter 18</a><a></a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. inexorable — as the sea</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>I is for <i>Inexorable</i>.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <strong><em>inexorable</em> — as the sea</strong>
</p>
<hr/>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">In hindsight, Marinette should have followed her horoscope of <em>Don't let curiosity take control of you.</em></p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">But it was not as if she was actively searching for trouble, and she certainly did not expect confronting a pickpocket would lead to her being trapped in the coldest nightclubs in the city — and on the day she had decide to forego her jacket, too. The ropes provided little warmth, let alone comfort, already chaffing up her skin. Damn her past self for making poor decisions on fashion over comfort and being a do-gooder-turned-hostage instead of a bystander who should have minded her business.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">Speaking of which, the said pickpocket was currently ignoring her, despite being tied up on the adjacent wall, as he glared off to the door, most likely keeping a look out for any of their kidnapper’s subordinates.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“So”, she awkwardly trailed off, deciding that she may as well try to fill in the silence. “I’m Marinette.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">He raised a brow, yet, kept his attention on the door. His shoulders awkwardly shook as he fidgeted with hands behind his back, and she wondered if he was freezing just as much as her.</p>
<p class="p1">
  <em>
    <br/>
  </em>
</p>
<p class="p1"><em>And god, she really, really wished for her sweater, </em>Marinette thought pouting as she looked over at her cellmate's attire.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">His sherpa-lined jacket looked really warm… and expensive. As a matter of fact, his whole outfit looked overall pricey — the shoes and accessories she recognized from high-end designer brands, despite its simplicity in looks.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“Are you like a cop or something?” She wondered aloud, surprising both him and herself at the question.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“What”, he snapped and glowered in her direction</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“I didn’t mean to say that out loud”, she said apologetically, preferring the awkward silence instead of this deadly glare. “Please, just ignore me.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“What makes you think I’m a cop”, the man pestered on as he still maintained that inquisitive stare down.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“Your clothes?”, she said wondering if her conclusion even made sense. “I recognized the logo on your shirt. It’s <em>CAPE</em>, right? And your sneakers are the <em>N*ke x Off-Grey</em> collabs, too. Those cost up to nearly 2K on resale by themselves. Not to mention the <em>Cortier</em> earrings and watch you got on, adding on another grand to your whole outfit.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“You got a keen eye”, the pickpocket muttered irritably. “But what do my clothes have to do with my assumed profession.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“I just find it weird”, Mairnette shrugged. “Assuming if all those are real and you didn’t buy replicas off of some sketchy website, you clearly have money. And it just made me wonder why you would try to steal a phone from our abductor. Who, by the way, seems to be running some illegal operations that you did not look so surprised by.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">The man raised a brow at her, nodding slightly at her deductive reasoning.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“You know”, he sighed, easing back onto the wall. “You <em>really</em> should have just minded your business. Cobblepot is not someone you would want for an enemy.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“I could see that”, Marinette hummed.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“But it really just looked like you stealing from some old guy”, She bit out, huffing at her situation again. “You made it look exactly how you wanted it to look, and I just wanted to help someone out, today. I didn't know that he had other men following us.”</p>
<p class="p1">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“Well”, he began with a bitter edge to his voice. “Don’t. I could have attacked you when you cornered me in that alley. There are other smarter ways to help someone without endangering yourself.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“Yeahhhh.” Marinette grimaced at her idiotic attempt to play a hero. Now look at her. The man she was trying to help was keeping her hostage under the false pretenses that she was the in on the little heist this guy did.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“Wait." She shook her head, pouting in his direction “You’re deflecting. Are you a cop or not?”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“No.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“Then, what’s your excuse for stealing from a mob boss?”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“None of your business.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“What? No, tell me. You’re just as much to blame for putting me in this situation.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“You don’t seem to have learned your lesson”, he said, exasperatedly, bringing one hand up to rub his forehead. Wait — his hand?</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“How did you get out of your handcuffs”, she asked in amazement Flinching when she received another one of his scowls, and maybe, she shouldn’t have said that so loud. Whoops.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“Sorry”, she whispered, tensing a bit as he moved closer to where she sat tied up. “But how did you—“</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“Listen”, he interrupted as he pulled a knife — and where’d he get that from?— to cut the rope binding her.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“You shouldn't ask so many questions. There are some things that you should remain ignorant from.” The bindings fell loose around her, and she gratefully stretched to get some blood flow running through her numb arms.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“Otherwise, you’ll just find yourself in situations like these, or worse, okay?” He finished, eyeing her as if she was a child that had to be told no. (And maybe, she did have childidsh tendencies that seemed to have gotten her in trouble. Take, for example, her whole day.)</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“I guess”, she shrugged, flinching a bit at how condescending his advice was. Yet, something warm and soft was wrapped around her shoulders, and she looked down to realize that the man had placed his jacket around her shivering form. He, then, stood up wasting no time to </p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“It’s for your own good, alright. Now, come on. We have about thirty minutes to leave until the guards finish their rounds and circle back again.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“Wait, how do you know that? Are you sure you're not a cop? Or I don't know — Batman, or something?”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“What did I say about asking questions.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“Sorry. But can I ask one more thing?” He gave her another frustrated sigh, nevertheless, he gave in to her relentless curiosity.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“And what would that be?”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“I-I don’t really know your name”, she said, self-consciously feeling her cheeks heat up as she clutched his jacket tighter. “What is it?”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">And wow, that sounded really awkward and demanding, huh? She was just about to say never mind, until a breath escaped the man.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“Damian”, he answered, already looking out the door for any of the guards. Marinette nodded to herself.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“It’s nice to meet you, Damian.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“Likewise, Marinette.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Been getting more into streetwear fashion lately and just felt like parodying actual designer brands like how they do in anime 🙃</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. je ne sais quoi — oh, you speak French, now?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>J is for <i>Je Ne Sais Quoi</i>.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1"><em><strong>je ne sais quoi</strong></em> <strong> — oh, you speak French, now?</strong></p>
<hr/><p class="p1">Sometimes, being bilingual really did have its perks — especially, since her first language was a European language far too romanticized by Hollywood and the like.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">For instance, Marinette often got to talk shit to the customer’s faces under the guise of speaking kindly to them in French.</p><p class="p1"> </p>
<hr/><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>“Oh you’re French? But you look Asian. Prove it!” They would say, crossing their arms as if their high school class, in which they hardly passed, was any better.</em>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>“Salope, je suis française!” Marinette smiled sweetly, internally screaming at the amazed look in their eyes.</em>
</p><p class="p1"> </p>
<hr/><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>“Since you’re a foreigner, I’ll forgive you for taking so long to get my order.” Some of the more snooty customers would sniff, after complaining about the wait and lack of service when the restaurant was clearly busy.</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>“Brûle en l’enfer!” She waved goodbye, already in the process of charging an additional tip to their credit card.</em>
</p><p class="p1"> </p>
<hr/><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>“You’re so pretty. What time are you off? Maybe, we can grab a few drinks after your shift”, some of the more annoying patrons would say, adding a wink as if she wasn’t already disgusted with their audacity.</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>“Encule toi Salaud”, Marinette sighed, feigning disappointment, before taking her break with some of her other coworkers to make fun of them.</em>
</p><p class="p1"> </p>
<hr/><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">Many of her other coworkers who had followed in her footsteps of politely cursing at the rude patrons of the establishment (whether it was in Spanish, Portuguese, Swahili, and the non-English language), and even going so far as to teach one another their curse words and insults, so as to not leave any one out of the joke.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">After all, they were all in this together, when it came to serving and dealing with the city’s most obnoxious.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Yet, Marinette did not even think about the possibility that someone would be familiar with more than just basic high school French, and that she would dare say that they were actually <em>fluent</em> in her native language.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Lately, she had taken up seeing the customers out with a cheery <em>fuck you,</em> dismissing it as France’s way for <em>come again</em>.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">It just so happened to be the day when one of their most insufferable regulars complained once again about how their meal was too spicy and demanded a discount less they face the wrath of a —<em> gasp, bad review!</em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Still, Marinette figuratively rolled her eyes as she inputed a discount while accidentally charging the patron the most expensive glass of wine, something she had done countless times.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">With her practiced customer service smile, she passed back their credit card, who looked far too smug at having just ruined the whole restaurant’s day after throwing another tantrum to receive their food at half off without properly tipping them.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">The situation really did call for her to say <em>eat my ass</em> as she grinned back at leaving patron.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">From her side, she heard the waiter snort at the comment, who had taken most of the rudeness of the customer. Another of the passing hostess had to hide her face within the menus as she overhead her <em>oh so charming</em> French goodbye.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Yet, one of the restaurant’s most valued regular, who Marinette had the slightest crush on, happened to walk right in and pause just as the words left her mouth.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">There was a furrow between his brow as he eyed her and the retreating patrons, before pursing his lips. And as much as Marinette wanted to ignore the inkling that she may have totally done something unprofessional, she could not ignore how her nicer regular smirked at her, as if they were in on the joke.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Hello, Damian”, she greeted, cringing at her stutter. “Would you like to sit on the veranda this evening?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">All while Marinette tried to push down her anxiety that the Wayne heir might be aware of her poor, petty customer service, he had answered her. Not in English, but in French.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><em>“Oui, et j'aimerais essayer ce que vous avez offert au dernier client.”</em> His mouth curled up, as she felt her mouth gape that he really does understand French, and — oh god, he really just said that.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“I’m just kidding, Marinette.” Damian shrugged off in English, despite the mirthful look in his eye that said he was anything but joking around. “A table on the veranda is fine.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>“…Enule!”</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <h6>Chapter title from PARTYNEXTDOOR's <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lG4HICGeQoo">"Come and See Me (feat. Drake)"</a>.</h6><p>
  <i>Salope, je suis française! — Bitch, I am French!</i>
  <br/>
  <i>Brûle en l’enfer! — Burn in hell!</i>
  <br/>
  <i>Encule toi Salaud — Fuck you, bitch</i>
  <br/>
  <i>Oui, et j'aimerais essayer ce que vous avez offert au dernier client. — Yes, and I would like to try what you offered the last customer.</i>
  <br/>
  <i>Enule — Fuck you</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Hi, everyone! It's been a minute lol. But first off, let me say that I have been on both ends of bad customer service. I have been poorly mistreated by service workers as a customer, and I have dealt with my own share of horrible customers as a service worker. It sucks, but not everyday!</p><p>this fic is about and dedicated to all the essential employees still working due to their own personal choices or because their conditions require them to! (and I am aware that it is illegal to charge someone for extra tips, but this is just some self-fulfillment for those workers who can relate lmao.)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. kairos — thee moment</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>K is for <i>Kairos</i>.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>a gotham academy continuation!!</p>
<p>update (07.29):<br/>Part 1 in <a href="#section0017">Chapter 8</a><br/>Part 3 in <a href="#section0018">Chapter 18</a><a></a></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <strong><em>kairos</em> — <em>thee</em> moment</strong>
</p><hr/>
<p class="p1">It was an open secret around the manor that Damian had an “uninvited” guest who stayed most nights in his room and left when dawn barely arrives to break the evening sky.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Almost every morning for the past few months, he would awake to Marinette leaving the bed and silently cursing as she struggled to put on her school uniform in the dim lights of his room. This morning, he had woken up to a tired whine as his not-quite girlfriend rolled off the bed and onto the floor with an ugly thud.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“You know you could just come downstairs, and eat breakfast with me and Alfred”, Damian said, offering no hand to help her up because he was too used to her antics.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“But sneaking around is more fun.” She sat up, adorably rubbing the sleep from her eyes, which only furthered his slight irritation at how he can hardly stay exasperated with her.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“My father already said it was okay for you to sleep here, as long as you let your host family know where you are”, he said, pulling on the shirt he carelessly tossed last night. He grimaced, remembering the other requirement that dealt with using precautions and contraceptives, but he rightfully left that part out.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Yeah, I know”, Marinette called, her voice muffled from tugging her button-up over her head, rather than unbuttoning it like a normal person. “But I don’t feel all that comfortable, intruding on your time with them like that.”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">He rolled his eyes, knowing how much her excuse to not spend time with his family was always full of shit. In actuality, she was just too embarrassed to be within the same room as them since their disaster of a meeting at the police department.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Sure, Marinette laughed it off, even going so far as to bring it up as a joke of how she met <em>the</em> Bruce Wayne with his son's teethmarks all over her neck and chest. Yet, looking at her reddened cheeks and tense frame, she was somewhat traumatized that his father and butler were aware of their teenage escapades in that closet.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Nonetheless, Damian shrugged it off, never forcing her to sit down with them to show that his father <em>truly</em> does not care about what they do in their own time just so long as they were careful and willing.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Well, the invitation is always there”, he sighed, kneeling as he helped her zip up the uniform skirt.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">She gave a grateful smile, before quickly pecking him on the lips.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Maybe tomorrow.” Marinette whispered, barely pulling away, and Damian felt her lips curling into a pleased grin.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Tomorrow”, he repeated, knowing damn well that she was going to sneak out once again.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">She tossed her loafers down to the grass below his window, and with one final kiss, she climbed out and onto the vine trellis to begin her descent to the yard. Damian, of course, watched her, ready to jump out and catch her for every slip of the foot or hand, but she made her way down as safe as Marinette can be. He tossed her backpack, and she grinned up way too satisfied for sneaking out in full view of the hidden cameras his father installed years prior.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“I’ll see you at the meeting spot, okay?” She whisper-yelled at him, as she pulled her shoes on.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">He nodded, not bothering to hide the way his eyes rolled, nor the small grin forming on his face. Yet, it only made her grin wider as she looked to him with giddy, childish eyes, before waving and running towards the gate.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Damian watched for a moment until he decided that she was safe enough.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Minutes later, he emerged from his room and into the kitchen, fully dressed in his uniform, with his backpack only filled with the “casual”clothes Marinette packed the night before.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Alfred merely passed a bowl of cereal and some freshly cut strawberries as he sat beside his father, who barely batted an eye as he skimmed through his tablet about the company’s revenue.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“I see that you failed to convince Miss Marinette to stay for breakfast”, Alfred casually said, already pouring his father another cup of coffee.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“She’s shy”, Damian said around a spoonful of cereal as he checked his <em>Tw*tter</em> feed on his phone, before directing his next question at his unbothered father.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Did you disable the locks and security when she left?”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Yes”, the older Wayne answered, a finger swiping to switch tabs on another breakout at Arkham. “She still climbed over the gate, though.”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Damian snorted, because <em>of course, she did.</em></p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“I hear that the two of you are going to the botanical gardens instead of class today”, his father questioned, eyeing him over the rim of his mug.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Yep.” Damian shrugged, accustomed to the older Wayne’s nosiness and ability to figure out all his plans for <em>Senior Ditch Day</em>. “And I’m taking her to Frenchie’s for lunch after.”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Good choice”, Alfred called out behind the counter.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Thank you, Alfred.”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Just be careful, and keep an eye out”, his father said, placing his tablet down. “I increased security and limited the amount of entries for the gardens, today. So, there shouldn’t be too much people interrupting your date.”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">The young Wayne paused for a moment, almost in awe of how considerate his father’s gift was, but he couldn’t bring himself to fully thank him just yet.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Other than you and Grayson that is”, he attempted at a joke.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Dick will only be there to take pictures from afar”, his father replied without missing a beat. “It’s much harder to snap your precious moments with your not-so-girlfriend through the security cameras.”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Damian gave an exaggerated groan, nonetheless, the small twitch in his mouth said all his thanks for him.</p>
<p class="p1"> </p><hr/>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Marinette convinced him that <em>Senior Ditch Day</em> was one of the many things that every seventeen-year old was entitled to after nearly a decade of schooling. Although, he never tried to argue with her of how he leaves school under the guise of an internship almost every other day because <em>it’s excused! It doesn’t count! </em>And it goes without saying that his father would most likely excuse their absences today, as well.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Still, Damian went along with it, even ditching his school uniform in one of his more incognito coupes as he met her near the gardens. Marinette ran up to him, launching herself midway, ignoring the curious onlookers who laughed at their cliched reunion.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">He easily caught her, setting her down as she looked up to him with that same dopey smile on her face.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“I’m really happy you’re here”, she whispered, making him irritated at how she was too cute for her own good.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“I guess”, he smirked, giving a noncommittal hum. But Marinette lightly slapped his arm, before tugging on his bicep towards the entrance.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Somewhere in the distance, he could practically hear the clicks of Grayson’s camera and his father snorting at his many computer screens.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">But watching as she turned back to him with that naive and mirthful look in her eyes while she <em>promised</em> that he was going to enjoy today, Damian could ignore them, not caring if they could see them or what he was about to do. He easily matched her strides, pressing his lips into her hair as they neared the entrance.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“You know”, he began softly, enough for only her to hear. “I kind of love you.”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">She only pulled away to stare at him in shock, her mouth slightly agape as disbelieving scoffs left her. Yet, Damian still held that fond, small smile, watching as her cheeks darkened and another grin formed while she gripped onto his arm tighter in response.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Marinette didn’t say anything. Her ugly snorts and giggles as she hid her face in his arm was enough.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A continuation from <a href="#section0008">Chapter 8</a>!</p>
<p>ngl that highschool/gotham academy chapter is my favorite, and I thought I'd just try my hand at another (corny) teenage love story lol</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. lygophilia — love for you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>L is for <i>Lygophilia</i>.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <strong><em>lygophilia</em> — love for you</strong>
</p>
<hr/><p class="p1">With quickened steps of her heels, Marinette finally reached her usual motel room, ensuring that she had not been followed by some of her... boyfriend’s friends. Once the door was shut and locked, she immediately collapsed into a chair, propped against the walls with the small mismatched table used as dining table.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">The room, itself, had seen better days with all of its worn down furniture and yellowed wallpaper, but Marinette (even in her inebriated state) has never felt more at peace compared to her resident in her boyfriend’s high rise on the border of the red-light district.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Yet, she tensed when she heard the door opening, only to calm when she recognized the visitor at the entrance.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“What happened?” Damian questioned still dressed in that business suit her controlling boyfriend required all of the guards to wear, looking just as out of place their cheap, yet, precious room. But seeing him, only made the ache in her chest hurt a little less until he continued.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“You disappeared during the party. You know he doesn’t like you running off”, Damian said, kneeling down in front of her. His large hands found hers, and with his thumb, he traced the small expanse of her knuckles in a soothing gesture, an act far too intimate between a bodyguard and his charge.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“He wouldn’t notice”, Marinette answered bitterly with a wry smile. She took the chance to close her eyes, ignoring the building anger, while she leaned closer to press her forehead against his shoulder.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“He did”, Damian said, moving his shoulder slightly, but she was adamant to stay there. “It’s why I’m here. He sent me out to look for you.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Oh?” She questioned, lazily putting on a coy facade. “Is that really all you came here for? There’s nothing else that you want?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">She feels a sigh escape him, meeting the bare skin of her neck save for the gold chain that hangs at her collar.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Marinette.” His voice was stern, and she felt him losing his patience with her. “Stop this. You need to go back.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">At this, Marinette could not help but voice out the bitterness of going back to a man, who disrespects her — especially, coming from the man that she cares for.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Why should I?” She seethed, directing a glare up at Damian, but he neither reacts nor speaks. “He keeps me on a shortened chain while he flirts and sleeps with anyone that looks in his direction.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“It’s not fair”, she continued, pulling away from her guard. Her fingers pressed into her palm, creating crescents; yet, all her practice of putting up an indifferent facade was lost on her, as her eyes began to itch at the need to cry and scream years worth of pent up frustrations.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“I know.” It was all he said. Because despite him becoming her personal guard for nearly a year prior, he was well aware of how her boyfriend, who remained faithless in their relationship, had uprooted her life in Europe to Gotham, furthering her isolation from her family and her reliance on him.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Seeing Damian behind his back was one of the most selfish and thrilling decisions that she had made in what felt like forever. He was refreshing in all his sharp mannerisms and blunt words. And maybe she was just starved for attention from the lack she received from her ever controlling boyfriend, but Marinette had fallen for the man she had spent almost ever waking hour with.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“I don’t want to go back.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“You have to. They can’t find us like this.” And Marinette sighed, hating and respecting how frank he always was. Without fail, Damian would be the one to remind her of their world outside that cheap motel room, breaking her most enticing desire to just be with him.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“When can we come back here?” she asked in a voice so small, as she stared at the indifferent mask he wore whenever he worked.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“I don’t know.” Always honest and straightforward — she could roll her eyes at that, if she didn’t feel so empty at the thought that this could be their last private moments together. Damian was never the type to promise <em>next time,</em> unlike her boyfriend and his unfulfilled pledge to spend the day together or take her out.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Let’s go.” With that, her guard pulled her to her feet and escorted her away from the motel room, ensuring that their secret place was locked for their next unknown escape.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Throughout the car ride, Marinette felt listless as the unbearable weight of returning back to her caged world settled. She barely heard of Damian calling her boyfriend, informing him of her location and safe return.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">The only thing keeping her grounded was his hand on her own.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">She shifted her gaze from the passing city to him, studying his profile. The furrow in his brows. The curve of his lips. The acid green in his eyes as they turn to focus on her and only her.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Later on, after she was unceremoniously grabbed by the arm and forced to stay by her boyfriend’s side throughout the duration of the party, Marinette’s thoughts were on that cherished moment, as she defies every nerve in her body to not turn around to look back at him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Inspired by Ariana Grande's <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1ekZEVeXwek"><i>Into You</i></a> music video.</p><p>hi! this chapter had been really difficult to put out lol. I kept going back and forth between different ideas, but ultimately decided on angst and Miss Grande's mv. hope you liked it &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. mille tendresse — love me sweet</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>M is for <i>Mille Tendresse</i>.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>tw: violence in italics</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <strong><em>mille tendresse</em> — love me sweet</strong>
</p><hr/>
<p class="p1">Music echoed against the walls of her bathroom, but the two occupants hardly paid attention to the speaker, as they only focused on the painful silence between the two.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">It was her idea. After a tender conversation and waiting for his return after his angry storm off, Marinette had suggested that they take a bath together to rinse themselves from whatever had turned this air choking and bitter.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">She had already proffered the speaker up onto the sink, playing soft, soulful songs that she adored and sang non-stop during car rides. Candles of her favorite scents, consisting of lilac and fresh linen, were lighted. Even the bath, was filled with oils and bubbles for her own amusement. Because in the end, this wasn’t for them, but more for her own needed fulfillment to calm down.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Yet, Damian hardly responded to her, only looking off to some corner in a somber and far-away thought. He ignored her as they both had gotten undressed and stepped into the tub. The water had sloshed around, dangerously close to the edge until it had relaxed around their sitting forms.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">They sat, facing each other from opposite ends of the tub. Her knees brought to her chest and his bended outside of her frame. She wanted to laugh because her bathtub was too small for someone of his frame, however, the tightness of her throat could hardly allow her to breathe.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Marinette wished that he could say something first, for once. Fill in this gap with humor or rambled conversation to distract from the obvious source of discomfort. Just as she does, when he was so wrought with anger and anxiety that he could hardly speak.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Say something”, Marinette whispered, flinching at how bitter her plea sounded. She didn’t intend for it to come off that way, but she was tired of the silence just as she was tired from her journey home from the cafe she works at.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Damian couldn’t pick up on the plea, or maybe he just ignored her all together, similar to what he had done an hour before when he decided to leave her apartment door when she wanted him most. He simply kept quiet, unresponsive to the way her eyes watered and the quiver in her pout.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">The water flowed around her arms as she shifted uncomfortably at everything. The stillness between words only filled by the smooth humming coming from the little speaker within the room. The contrasting heat from the water and the cool air on her neck and shoulders.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">The bruises on her arms and cheek from earlier in that alley and the lack of his touch on her.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">She should have known better. Taken better precautions after she locked the shop up for the night. Maybe, she should have called that ride service, instead of taking the last train home. But she thought that she was alone and that was enough to protect her.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">It was not.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <em>The fatigue and heaviness of the cycle of endless work and rare sleep had exhausted her instincts to the point that she was vulnerable. Far too unaware of the trailing footsteps that followed her since her departure of the train.</em>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <em>But Marinette was tired, to the very point that she was acting from muscle memory in her hazy mindset. Her feet will turn right, take her up a flight of stairs, and finally reach her street.</em>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <em>It was only a three-minute walk from there.</em>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <em>That is, until she was yanked into an alley from the collar of her shirt, snapping her from the lethargic fog and pushing straight into panic.</em>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <em>He brandished something sharp and shiny and said something — practically growled it out for her purse? Her phone?</em>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <em>She couldn’t remember, but her first instinct was to cling onto her possessions and go into herself, terrified at having been caught in this situation and only holding onto her items in a useless attempt to keep her grounded. Yet, that was the wrong move.</em>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <em>He grabbed the bag, still tightly gripped by her hand and pulled, but Marinette couldn’t let it go. Because something was screaming to wait wait wait wait until she figured out what was happening. Is this really happening? </em>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <em>Something struck her across the cheeks as if to answer her question. And she falls, hands and knees scraping to catch her as she lands onto the dirtied gravel. Her bag is no longer in her palm, only bloodied lacerations filled with debris and untouchable stars that float and double before her eyes.</em>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <em>There’s a pain to her stomach, and her body doubles forward at the lack of air pushed out, and she is pushed once more into a haze of painful exhaustion.</em>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <em>Somewhere between trying to ignore the growing bruises to the fitful coughing, Marinette heard the footsteps run away, and it was only moments later that she forced herself up, dusting the dirt from her coat, and headed straight for her apartment.</em>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“I should have been there.” His voice cut in a soft whisper that penetrated her soundless anxiety, bringing her back to where she was.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">With him. She was with him. But he was not with her.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">He refused to look at her and to touch her when all she needed was that comfort. He was too far away and just barely out of reach.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“But you weren’t.” She said, feeling her lips twitch up at the irony of finally hearing his voice. And the only thing to come from him was that?</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">That was not what she wanted to hear. Close, but just not enough.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“I should have been.” And the bubbles have finally cleared just enough to reveal his fists shaking under the water.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“You weren’t”, she repeated again, smiling so hard, because he still doesn’t get it. she sounded as if she was on the borderline of hysterically laughing or crying. Most likely both.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“I—“</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“You weren’t there”, her voice cut in, so sharp and gentle all at once. <em>“I was.”</em></p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">He finally looked at her, a sad and pitiful gaze finally resting on her, and it felt like he was taking in the mess of emotions she was caught in, rather than the nasty purple swelling on her cheek.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Damian pursed his lips as something flickers in his eyes, his jaw tensing from gritting his own teeth. And finally — <em>finally</em> — he raised his arms, the water dripping and plopping back into the tub.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">And Marinette chose to cry in that moment, taught when she pushed against the marble of the tub and fell right into his chest, strong arms wrapping around her.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">She felt relief and the night’s frustrations hit her all at once, before it escaped into choked sobs that ached her pounding chest.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Her fingers had turned pruny by the time that she was done, and the water was just as cold as the air. The jars had melted a majority of the candle wax, now pooling dangerously close to the burning wick.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">But she focused on the repeating smooth hums from her phone, and Damian’s own puckered fingertips that gently smoothed her tangled hair.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Her mind ran with a thousand thoughts, but the only thing at the forefront was how strained Damian’s muscle must be from sitting so uncomfortably in this position for so long.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">A little huff of a giggle escaped her throat, and her mouth curved at the thought as she pulled away to look at him.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">He sighed when he saw the small grin on her face, before matching that with his own amused smile.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Are you ready to get out?”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">She shook her head, lying back down onto his chest and feeling him sigh into her hair.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Okay”, he said. “We’ll stay here for as long as we need to.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p><i>Mille tendresse</i> means <i>'Much Tenderness'</i>, a French phrase said by Audrey Hepburn.</p>
<p>another angsty fic lol :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. AUTHOR'S NOTE</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>TW: Racism, Murder, Racial Injustice, Police Brutality, Police Racism, Systemic Racism, Hate Crimes, Police "Salt"</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>please read the warnings in the chapter summary.</p><p>update (6.15)<br/><a href="https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co">blacklivesmatters.carrd.co</a><br/><a href="http://lgbtqpl.carrd.co">lgbtqpl.carrd.co</a><br/><a href="https://trans--rights.carrd.co">trans--rights.carrd.co</a><br/><a href="https://yemencrisis.carrd.co">yemencrisis.carrd.co</a><br/><a href="https://helppalestine.carrd.co">helppalestine.carrd.co</a><br/><a href="https://standwithhongkong.carrd.co">standwithhongkong.carrd.co</a><br/><a href="https://issuesintheworld.carrd.co">issuesintheworld.carrd.co</a></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>Hello everyone, I have to begin that this is not an update to the story but awareness.</p>
<hr/><p>I'm sure to whoever is on this site, they have heard the news in regards to what is occurring in America — more specifically, in Minnesota, USA. And if you have not, I highly encourage that you read from <em>trustful</em> news site and sources. I recommend Twitter, because informations and events are shared out on REAL TIME by REAL PEOPLE.</p><p> </p><p>Search out, listen &amp; comprehend what is going on.</p><p> </p><p>George Floyd, a black man, was needlessly and cruelly murdered by a police officer while another police officer watched on. It was captured and recorded on camera for all to witness this horrid act of police brutality, and I'm disgusted to say that this was not my first time watching a racist cop harm and kill an unarmed black man. Racism and prejudice by the police had lead to a senseless death of a handcuffed and unarmed man. Black people, and any people of color, along with white people, are allowed to be infuriated by the constant mistreatment of police and people who misuse their privilege to send police over to kill and harm innocent lives.</p><p> </p><p>All these "riots" occurring in Minnesota and other cities, are not unwarranted. It has been a long time coming after numerous attempts of peaceful protests have been met with indifference, mockery and aggression. Please be aware that these began as peaceful protests that have only escalated into what they are now due to police teargassing and pepper-spraying unarmed protestors and some police &amp; opportunistic anarchists vandalizing businesses and fueling these riots with more violence. It is to make the protestors look bad and defeat their purpose of their cause, which is to bring more equality and stop senseless police violence against ALL black people — men, women, children, and those in the LGBTQIA community.</p><p> </p><p>I want to use this platform to raise awareness of what black people face on a daily basis by racist police officers.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p>
  <strong>Please donate, sign petitions, and/or look to these links for more information.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong><a href="https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/">https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/</a> (!!!)</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <a href="https://minnesotafreedomfund.org/">https://minnesotafreedomfund.org/</a> (Overwhelmed w/ Donations) → <a href="https://secure.actblue.com/donate/bail_funds_george_floyd">https://secure.actblue.com/donate/bail_funds_george_floyd</a></strong>
</p><p>
  <strong><a href="https://www.naacpldf.org/">https://www.naacpldf.org/</a> (NAACP Legal Defense Fund)</strong>
</p><p><a href="https://www.gofundme.com/f/protesters-and-bond-funds"><strong>https://www.gofundme.com/f/protesters-and-bond-funds</strong></a> <strong>(GoFundMe for Destroyed Black-Owned Businesses)</strong></p><p>
  <strong><a href="https://docs.google.com/document/d/e/2PACX-1vSrT26HMWX-_hlLfiyy9s95erjkOZVJdroXYkU-miaHRk58duAnJIUWKxImRkTITsYhwaFkghS8sfIF/pub">https://docs.google.com/document/d/e/2PACX-1vSrT26HMWX-_hlLfiyy9s95erjkOZVJdroXYkU-miaHRk58duAnJIUWKxImRkTITsYhwaFkghS8sfIF/pub</a> (UP TO DATE GOOGLE DOCS TO MANY PETITIONS)</strong>
</p><p>Copy &amp; Paste: <strong><span class="u">https://twitter.com/daintyjimn/status/1267134017045852160?s=20</span> (A Twitter thread for more info, google docs, etc.)</strong></p><p>Copy &amp; Paste: <strong><span class="u">https://youtu.be/bCgLa25fDHM</span> ("STREAM TO DONATE: how to help with no money or leaving your house." by Zoe Amira. TURN OFF ANY ADBLOCKER EXTENSIONS. REVENUE FROM WATCHING ADS WILL GO TO DONATIONS.)</strong></p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Please look into <em><strong><a href="https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/">https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/</a></strong></em>. This one will provide you with other links and Twitter threads on how to specifically help aid and support (such as signing petitions if international, how to be an ally, how to protect yourself and save others if you are protesting directly against the police, etc).</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Text "JUSTICE" to 668366</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Text "FLOYD" to 55156</strong>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <strong>IF YOU ARE WHITE, WHITE-PASSING, AND/OR A NONBLACK POC, DO NOT USE THE CHAOS OF THE PROTESTS AS AN OPPORTUNITY TO LOOT, TRASH, AND VANDALIZE SMALL BUSINESSES, WHICH CAN HARDLY AFFORD TO REBUILD AFTER THIS. BLM AND BLACK &amp;. BROWN PEOPLE WILL FACE THE REPERCUSSIONS OF YOUR SELFISH ACTIONS THROUGH BLAME AND GUNSHOTS. IF YOU WERE TO RAID STORES FOR NEEDED SUPPLIES <em>TO GIVE BACK TO THE PROTESTORS</em>, MAKE SURE THEY ARE OWNED BY LARGE BUSINESSES CORPORATIONS BECAUSE THEY HAVE INSURANCE AND EASIER ACCESSIBILITIES TO REPLACE MERCHANDISE.</strong>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p>Now is not the time to say "<strike>all lives matter</strike>" because that does nothing for this specific and upfront cause. Now is the time to direct your support to Black Lives and how they are fighting to live without the fear of losing their life because of racism and the racist actions of racist people.</p><p> </p><p>Thank you.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>- may</p><p> <i>word count: 1312</i><br/> <br/>As exhausting as the world is right now, please stay up to date and contribute as much support as you can.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. niceness — between two moments of meanness</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>N is for <i>Niceness</i>.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <strong><em>niceness — </em>between two moments of meanness</strong>
</p>
<hr/><p class="p1">
  <em>“I don’t even like you.”</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">It was a phrase that Marinette has come to associate with Damian Wayne, the son of her uncle’s investor. She heard that far too many times since their first meeting as awkward preteens.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">The first time she heard him say that was at a high society function, and she had been forced into an ugly, teacup dress that hid her training bra, while he glowered straight at her nose because he refused to look up and meet her eyes, which would acknowledge that his insecurity of being shorter than a girl two years his junior.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">She had simply asked him how his day was after their guardians had introduced one another and left to speak with other adults. And Damian’s first and only response to her was, <em>I don’t even like you.</em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">At the time of her young and delicate age, a comment like that had her reeling, because <em>why</em>. What did she even do for this person to even say something like that. <em>Why why why.</em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Until she learned that he actually didn’t like anyone for that matter, only tolerating his family.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Eventually, she learned to not really care for Damian Wayne and his prickly attitude, accepting him for the asshole he paints himself to be. It became quite obvious that he pined for attention through perfection and superiority, and she decided to dismiss his rude responses with indifferent shrugs and eye rolls whenever they had to involuntarily interact with one another.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Yet, for some odd reason, it seemed to solidify their friendship, or at the bare minimum, associates. She found him staying close by her side throughout the functions, and was always surprised to hear him speak aloud, if only to spout off insults at how incompetent that one employer is and how irritating the Co-CEO is, and even going so far as to belittle her, until it ended with a patronizing <em>I don’t even like you.</em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">The first time, she realized that he was trying to talkwith her was after he dejectedly sighed in frustration at the confused look on her face.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>“I’m sorry…?” she said, unsure of how to comfort him or if he even needed to be comforted.</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>“For what.” His scowl returned.</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>“I didn’t know what to say,” She admitted.</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>“Don’t get the wrong idea”, he cut in quickly. “I wasn’t trying to be friends with someone as stupid as you. I don’t even like you.”</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">And that was how most of their short conversations ended over the years, even when he began to fill out his suits better as his height doubled and her dresses seemed to show more skin.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Yet, each and every time, Marinette always found herself next to Damian politely engaging in whatever small talk that she could think of, preparing for whatever critique he had to offer.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Sometimes, he would gently brush a strand of her hair behind her ear or carefully tug at a loose seam on her dress, scoffing at how unkempt her appearance was. Sometimes, he would help her up with an indignant snort when she accidentally tripped over the short train of her gown. Sometimes, he would pull her under his toned arm when a guest would try to place their hands somewhere she was not comfortable with.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">But always, he would repeat those ever-clear words of <em>I don’t even like you.</em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><em>I don’t even like you. </em>He would say as he caught the disbelief on her face at the intimate contact, flicking her forehead in the process.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><em>I don’t even like you. </em>He would say as she gratefully thanked him after the nth time she tripped that night.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><em>I don’t even like you. </em>He would say into her ear as he threw a warning glare at the guest over her shoulder.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">It was not until the night of a WE charity auction when she had finally understood why Damian kept up that aloof attitude with her.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">He seemed to have been in a bad mood all night, as many of his father’s associates had left him alone. When she caught his eye, she tried to send a polite smile, but he pointedly nodded his head to the side, silently telling her to follow him.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Feeling some instinctive urge to go after him, she did and was met with him quietly waiting for her just outside the hotel as a foreign sports car pulled up. A valet passed him the keys, but he paid him no mind.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Want to get out of here”, He asked without waiting for an answer as he rounded to the driver’s side. Again, Marinette followed, sliding into the passenger side and carefully tucking in the skirt of her dress.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">He drove a block away, to the very top level of some empty parking garage. Cutting the engine, the two were left in comfortable silence, away from the suffocating air of the party and guests.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Don’t get the wrong idea, though”, he said, with his forehead pressed against his forearms on the steering wheel. “I don’t even like you.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Marinette kept her eyes on the city skyline, even when the question spilled out of her mouth.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“What don’t you like about me?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“What.” He said, directing his glare at her.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“What don’t you like about me?” She repeated. Some part of her did not want to hear the genuine answer to that question. However, the curious side of her needed to know what was so unlikable about her that he had to remind her almost every other second.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“You’re annoying”, he said, without missing a beat. “Clumsy to the point that I have to help you up out of pity.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Marinette blinked, surprised at his response.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Is that all?” She asked.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“No.” He leaned closer, and she subconsciously leaned back. “You’re beyond careless, barely aware of all the devious looks you get, especially when you wear form-fitting outfits like that. I practically act as your guard dog.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">She opened her mouth to speak until Damian spoke again.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Not to mention, dangerously naive and honest”, he listed off. “You don’t even bother to hide your eye rolls, but you still trusted me enough to drive you away from the party.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Marinette flinched, agreeing that maybe that wasn’t the smartest move on her end.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“All for what?” Damian questioned as he stared at her incredulously. “To ask why I don’t even like you? Because you’re fucking clueless to not even understand that I don’t <em>not</em> like you, and you still have no idea what you’re doing to me.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">At this point, their noses are almost touching and the weight of his words began to settle and her eyes widened at the realization that Damian Wayne might just be a fucking tsundere.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Oh.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Yeah.” He pulled away, leaning back against his driver seat as he stared back out at their view.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Marinette frowned at the way he distanced himself, disappointed that he did not take whatever was happening a step further.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Can we kiss or something?” She blurted out, meeting his bewildered eye, but she pressed on. “I thought you were cute for a while, but I genuinely thought you didn’t like me.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Damian sighed through his nose even as he leaned closer, and she felt his breath tickle her lips.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“I don’t even know why I like you”, he whispered. But Marinette stopped him with a kiss before he could go on another insult spree.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>oh my gosh, I was supposed to finish this challenge back in april hahahahaha. anyways, i am definitely not satisfied with this chapter, but I probably will try again for a more tsundere damian. i just felt kinda bad that i have not put out a story in a minute. :c </p>
</blockquote>Onto a more serious topic, I'd like to thank those that responded to <a href="#section0014">Chapter 14</a>.<br/>I hope that you all have taken the time to thoroughly read and utilize each link and advice on ways <i>you</i> can personally help.<p>Racism, systemic racism, police brutality are touchy subjects, and I know that I have brought these topics into a place where you least expected to see it on. However, I am not at all sorry because everything that BLM is fighting for is important. And maybe your life is not on the line, but black lives are, whether it is in a routine traffic stop, shopping for groceries, or in the medical field where their pleas for help are ignored.</p><p>Just because the media, algorithm, or whoever you follow doesn't reblog/repost/retweet about these anymore, does not mean that it's still not happening. People have been protesting for days straight (with masks), and I have witnessed and participated in some of it in my own city.</p><p>Keep signing petitions with your e-mails, fake e-mails, parents' e-mails. Donate to whatever funds, especially LOCAL. If you are old enough, vote whenever you can — the primaries, the local and state, the presidential. Constantly stay educated and change your mind when presented with new and trustful information. Keep doxing racists that show their true colors. (We don't want them as our doctors, lawyers, nurses, etc !!!) Defund the fucking police. Say THEIR names. Justice for George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, and everyone else that have been victimized by the police and system regardless of whether it was caught on camera.</p><p>The world has always been a fucking mess, and if you realized that when COVID-19 hit, then that is your privilege. It's time to use your privilege for everyone.</p><p> Yes, ACAB, but ALL BLACK LIVES MATTER. BLACK TRANS LIVES MATTER. BLACK WOMEN MATTER. NO JUSTICE, NO PEACE.</p><p>Thank you and please wear a mask.</p><p> <br/><a href="https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co">blacklivesmatters.carrd.co</a><br/><a href="http://lgbtqpl.carrd.co">lgbtqpl.carrd.co</a><br/><a href="https://trans--rights.carrd.co">trans--rights.carrd.co</a><br/><a href="https://yemencrisis.carrd.co">yemencrisis.carrd.co</a><br/><a href="https://helppalestine.carrd.co">helppalestine.carrd.co</a><br/><a href="https://standwithhongkong.carrd.co">standwithhongkong.carrd.co</a><br/><a href="https://issuesintheworld.carrd.co">issuesintheworld.carrd.co</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. oui — mais non</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>O is for <i>Oui</i>.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong><em>oui</em> — mais non</strong>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Damian carefully navigated his way through the streets of downtown, silently cursing at everyone’s poor driving each time he had to shift gears to avoid a collision. He could feel his irritation spike up to new levels when another car had parked into a spot that he had been eyeing.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Damn it”, he muttered under his breath, causing the bundle of blankets in the passenger seat of his car to shift, the folds parting to reveal his monster that is Marinette.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What happened?” She yawned softly, rubbing at her eyes, which were still swollen from her little crying session earlier within the day.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nothing”, he reassured, speeding just a tiny bit, when he caught sight of a blinker trying to enter traffic. One stubborn driver honked at him after Damian forced his way into the lane, but he ignored it, only focus on succeeding his mission — feeding his girlfriend and prolonging another emotional crying session.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You said you wanted Frenchies’, right?” he asked, thanking whatever higher being for blessing him with perfect parking on a weekend night in the city. “Did you want the gnocchi?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I want their breadsticks”, Marinette mumbled, before pausing. “...and the carbonara.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay”, Damian agreed, hurrying to unbuckle his seatbelt. “Breadsticks and carbonara.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Marinette nodded until she saw Omar’s famous gyro cart, causing her to gasp. “Wait!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes?” Damian tried to ask patiently, already sighing at her inevitable indecisiveness. Usually, Marinette was always confident in her decisions and instincts. Yet, around this time of the month, the only thing that she was sure of was that she wanted to cry, eat and that everything was somehow all Damian’s fault.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Gyros…” she whined, her eyes widening when she caught some of Omar’s patrons pass by with falafels wrapped in pita bread.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay”, he tried again, keeping his irritation down. “I’ll buy you gyros.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait.” Her eyes flashed between the restaurant and the stand, before looking at him with tears wide eyes. “You choose.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Omar’s.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, Frenchies’.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Damian gave a sideways glare at her, but she was in the middle of removing the blanket and getting out of the car. He followed after, grumbling at how he hated this time of the month. As he rounded the car, his own grievances stopped as he was reminded that. He had been in more irritable situations and that Marinette was the one who was involuntarily suffering the most.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His girlfriend beamed at him with giddy excitement, a clear opposite from hours ago when she was moping on the floor about her cramps and cravings for Italian food. And as much as Damian would never want to admit it, he was hopelessly whipped by this five-foot something woman.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Marinette placed her hand into the crook of his elbow as they walked towards one of their many go-to restaurants. That is until live music caught both of their attention, and they looked to the source of a live band in front of a family-owned Spanish restaurant.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Damian stiffened.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Pupusas…” Marinette whimpered, her gaze shifting that homey restaurant to Frenchies’ and </span>
  <em>
    <span>back</span>
  </em>
  <span> to Omars’.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“..Do you want to get Pupuserias?” He sighed, already leading her towards that direction instead of the Italian restaurant ahead.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes”, she admitted softly until another whine escaped her. “No…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He gave her an unimpressed look, causing Marinette to drop her face into his bicep.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know what I want.” Her cry muffled by his sleeve only made his eyes roll.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m buying you everything.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...Thank you.” She said quietly. And Damian smirked, relieved that he finally did something right that day.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>I miss yall.<br/>hope you liked this quick and little time-of-the-month/period story based on my own experiences. periods are no joke, and the drastic changes in hormones really do make me lose all self-control and inhibitions. anyways, hope all of you are staying safe and wearing masks and/or face shields when going out.</p>
</blockquote>Added a few more links for y'all, too! 🥰<p> </p><p>  <a href="https://www.therealrjm.com/real-talk/ways-to-help-protect-black-women17"><b>Over 20 Ways to Help Protect Black Women</b> by TheRealRJM</a></p><p> </p><p>  <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TgItkJCm09c">Anderson .Paak's <i>Lockdown</i>.
</a><br/><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E-1Bf_XWaPE">H.E.R.'s <i> I Can't Breathe</i>.</a></p><p> </p><p> <a href="https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co">blacklivesmatters.carrd.co</a><br/><a href="http://lgbtqpl.carrd.co">lgbtqpl.carrd.co</a><br/><a href="https://trans--rights.carrd.co">trans--rights.carrd.co</a><br/><a href="https://yemencrisis.carrd.co">yemencrisis.carrd.co</a><br/><a href="https://helppalestine.carrd.co">helppalestine.carrd.co</a><br/><a href="https://standwithhongkong.carrd.co">standwithhongkong.carrd.co</a><br/><a href="https://issuesintheworld.carrd.co">issuesintheworld.carrd.co</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. perfect — blue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>P is for <i>Perfect</i>,</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>tw: implied light g*re and violence</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em><strong>perfect</strong></em> <strong>— blue</strong></p><hr/>
<p>The studio felt suffocating. Tense to the point that the heavy thickness muffled all sounds aside from the fearful whispers of the stagehands and cast.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> Dead producer, no eyes, </em> and <em>cursed idols </em>were the main theme of each hushed conversation.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And Damian couldn’t be any more disgusted with how a majority of the employees managed to turn a horrible tragedy into an illogical conspiracy theory about the young actress.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Speaking of which, the said actress sat on a resting bench, dead center in the middle of the set, within hearing distance of every gossip going on around her. Damian could only imagine how difficult it was to be blamed for a crime she was not even guilty of.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When his father entrusted him to produce a mini television series under WE, Damian had met Marinette, finding her personality a bit bland but her talents with singing and acting incredible. Many of his other co-producers immediately agreed to cast her in under many different reasons — one was quite the fan from when she was in a girl group and the other had greedily pushed to exploit her popularity and appeal to the male masses.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Of course, there was some pushback from him and her managers. His reason being that they were writing a crime mystery, not the intro to some cheap XXX videos. Yet, her managers feared the downfall of her perfect, angelic reputation that they had worked so hard to build when she was an idol. And after arguments going back and forth and threats of writing her character off the show completely, Marinette finalized the decision and sided with the downfall of her character’s innocence.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was to everyone’s surprise that the bastard of a producer was found with multiple stab wounds in the parking garage of the studio.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Many theories had gone around that it had something to do with the idol-turned-actress, seeing as how some crazy fanatic planted a flash bomb within her fanmail as some psychotic way to virtue signal her own body.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>However, Damian could account that Marinette was innocent in the crime because he was with her around the time of death.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> As he walked to his car, Damian sent a quick text to his father to inform him that their ratings will drop after he saw the new script, cringing at how it was only meant as degenerate fan service. The sound of wheezing caught his attention, and he whipped around to find a red-faced and tears-eyed Marinette violently coughing into the crook of her arm. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “Ohh my god”, she gasped out, a clenched fist pounding at her chest. “What the fuck.” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “You shouldn’t smoke”, Damian found himself scolding her. She froze, slowly looking in his direction with a frightened look on her face, as if she had been caught red-handed. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Maybe, it was from the irritation of the bastard producer’s proud smug, yet, he felt the incredible need to take out his frustration on the woman. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “You can’t sing if your lungs are tarred up, and we don’t need another useless person for the show.” The doe-eyed look seemed to harden into a stubborn glare at him, but Damian could hardly care less. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “I’m not useless”, she shot out, causing him to raise a brow. He knew that he might have hit a nerve because it was the first time he had actually seen the true Marinette stand her ground. Not her character as Bridgette. And certainly, not her idol persona as Mari. But as Marinette, the woman with too much talent for her own good. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Wanting to change the subject, Damian surveyed the area and noticed the lack of her managers, who would have driven the woman home by this time. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “Are you getting a ride tonight”, he asked, catching her off guard a second time. Marinette flushed a bit, rubbing at her arm. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “Em — no. I told them I would take the subway home.” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> She cowered a bit, and he suspected that it was because he had thrown her a look that suggested she was stupid — which she was, due to how the last train ran an hour ago, and there was no way in hell he would allow her to walk to her rented apartment. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Suppressing a groan, he nodded towards his car. “Get in.” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The car ride remained pleasantly silent except for how the actress jolted suddenly after dozing off. He tried to ask what was wrong, but she only dismissed it as her exhaustion getting the better of her. As much as he wanted to scold her about getting the proper sleep, Damian decided not to as he took in the somber look on her face.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She still wore that look now, even when she put on her character’s faux innocent smile and performed her lines. There was still something sad and tired within her eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His thoughts are interrupted by a message from his brother.</p>
<p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p><em> Text Message from </em> <b> <em>T. Drake</em> </b></p>
  <p>
    <em> Garage cameras were conveniently not working at the time. </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> Delivered X:XX PM </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p>
<p>Damian could roll his eyes at that, but another message popped up with links to <em> Mari’s Room— </em>a chatroom dedicated to Marinette’s fans during her idol days, along with a photo of her call logs, and a private message conversation.</p>
<p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p><em> Text Message from </em> <b> <em>T. Drake</em> </b></p>
  <p>
    <em> Keep an eye on the actress. Couldn’t trace back the IP addresses &amp; numbers. </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> Delivered X:XX PM </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p>
<p>“Cut!” The director yelled out, earning relieved claps from many of the stagehands. She let out a few congratulations, before dismissing everyone for the day.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But Damian’s eyes followed Marinette’s form as she retreated to her dressing room and back to the unsettling evidence his brother compiled, in particular, the private chat conversation of someone role-playing as the actress and a crazed fan falling for the act. Only a few lines stood out to him, but the most concerning ones were the last two. Without wasting another second, Damian followed after Marinette, preparing a plan to protect her life at all costs.</p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> Get rid of the fake Mari on T.V. </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> Seen ✓ </em>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>
    <em> Anything for you, Mari. </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> Delivered ✓ </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>ahh so I love Satoshi Kon's <i>Perfect Blue (1997)</i>. it's one of my favorite psychological horror and thriller movies. I recently watched it again on youtube (for free, if you want to check it out!), and felt a little bit inspired to write, so here's my poor imitation of it 😅. if you do decide to watch it, be aware of some triggering things — implied r*pe &amp; s*xual violence/ assault, murder, g*re, nudity. even though it's an anime, it's rated R for a reason!</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>you already know 🥰   #blm💕<br/><a href="https://www.therealrjm.com/real-talk/ways-to-help-protect-black-women17"><b>Over 20 Ways to Help Protect Black Women</b> by TheRealRJM</a></p>
  <p> <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TgItkJCm09c">Anderson .Paak's <i>Lockdown</i>.
</a><br/><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E-1Bf_XWaPE">H.E.R.'s <i> I Can't Breathe</i>.</a></p>
  <p> <a href="https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co">blacklivesmatters.carrd.co</a><br/><a href="http://lgbtqpl.carrd.co">lgbtqpl.carrd.co</a><br/><a href="https://trans--rights.carrd.co">trans--rights.carrd.co</a><br/><a href="https://yemencrisis.carrd.co">yemencrisis.carrd.co</a><br/><a href="https://helppalestine.carrd.co">helppalestine.carrd.co</a><br/><a href="https://standwithhongkong.carrd.co">standwithhongkong.carrd.co</a><br/><a href="https://issuesintheworld.carrd.co">issuesintheworld.carrd.co</a></p>
</blockquote>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. quartz — ice that never melts</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Q is for <i>Quartz</i>.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>another gotham academy chapter!!</p>
<p>Part 1 in <a href="#section0017">Chapter 8</a>.<br/>Part 2 in <a href="#section0017">Chapter 11</a>.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong><em>quartz</em> — ice that never melts</strong>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>Turning a page in his novel, Damian ignored the awaited slam of a ruler against the desk and the nasally scolding that followed. In usual circumstances, he would be disinterested in what goes on around him at school. However, in this case, he took the slightest pleasure in watching the slump of his classmate’s shoulders as they were yelled at to be quiet during detention.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“All of you are lucky to have your punishment reduced to this!” The older (and most annoying) professor chastised, glaring at the few students that snickered at how red his face had gotten. “What you all did was childish and inexcusable! At my time here, the headmaster had bad students bent over his knee with a paddle in his hand!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Yet, like most teenagers, almost all of the students lost their composure at the image of the portly man being prepared for a spanking, and they cackled, already cracking jokes about the most hated professor at the academy.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Watching as the scene played out above his book, Damian raised a brow at how concerningly red the professor’s face had gotten while his cheeks puffed out to hold in the endless obscenities that he wanted to scream.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Saturday detentions for everyone not taking this seriously. Everyone aside from Mister Wayne and Miss Cheng will be here tomorrow for eight hours”, he spoke as calmly as he could. It had effectively shut all the troublemaking students up as they dropped their mouths in shock. The professor only muttered his curses, storming out of the classroom and slamming the doors shut. The sound of the locks being placed only signaled for the students to groan out their frustrations at having another detention.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“This is so fucking stupid.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I was supposed to go over to my dad’s tomorrow.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It was only a harmless prank, and Professor Egghead wasn’t supposed to be there.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>At that, Damian felt some of his classmates turn their glares towards him, but their attention shifted when he refused to even acknowledge them. As for himself, he had every right to be angry with his idiotic classmates (and even the professor) for getting him into this situation.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Seriously. Who still used that damn, unoriginal bucket-over-the-door prank. And who in their right fucking mind, would even think of pranking him — <em> Damian Fucking Wayne </em> — of all fucking people. It was bound to fail the moment they decided to target him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Yet, he didn’t anticipate how big of an egotistical asshole Professor Egger would be as he exploited his authority and punished every single person within distance with suspension that was later reduced to a two-hour detention by the headmistress. He only wished that the final twenty minutes would go by faster.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Wayne’s such a spoilsport”, one of the more popular students of his class commented, turning around in their seat to look at the girl, “Don’t you think, Marinette?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Damian’s hand twitched, before he annotated one particular line in his novel.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Marinette, who was the only other student to not receive Saturday school, merely hummed with a small smile.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“A little bit”, she agreed while packing away the last of the assignments she had been working on. “Sorry your guys’ prank turned out like this.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>From the corner of his eye, he watched as the popular student immediately waved their hands as they began to apologize.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, no! I’m sorry, you got caught up into this. Egger is a fucking prick and doesn’t know how to take a joke.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, Cheng!” The star basketball player jumped in, taking the seat beside her. Damian’s fingers flexed over his book, but he still held his own composure despite the sudden urge to launch the point guard across the room. “It was supposed to be for Mister Ice Prince over there, but Egghead was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I guess”, Marinette shrugged. “I’m just kind of glad it wasn’t me who opened the door.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, I remember you weren’t in class when we set up the bucket”, the popular student said. “Where were you anyways?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, I wanted to get a book from the library!” Marinette easily answered, earning a few wrinkled noses from their peers. But the transfer student beamed happily as she made a show of reaching and digging into her book bag and continued to prattle on.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It was recommended to me by a friend, and I was really lucky to find the last one”, She said gleefully, nearly making him snort aloud at her whole theatrics. He knew damn well what she was doing in the library — and it was, for sure, not “searching” for a book.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You are too adorable, Marinette!” the popular student squealed, reaching over to pinch the girl’s cheeks. She took it in stride, awkwardly laughing at the older sibling-like affections while rubbing at her reddened cheeks. She turned to look off to the side in flushed embarrassment, but the second she caught Damian’s eye, something in her demeanor shifted.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Her gaze narrowed slightly, turning from sheepish innocence to beguiling mischievousness. Under the guise of simple gestures, she knowingly raised a finger to trace the bottom of her lips before her hand trailed to her collarbones. The corner of her sweet smile raised a bit when Damian’s only response was the sharp intake of his breath that went unnoticed by everyone other than the two of them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> Damn it </em>, he thought, thinking back to how she had dragged him behind the unfrequented bookshelves during study hall.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “They’re trying to play a prank on you”, she whispered as her lips continuously met his between each word. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “I know”, he huffed, dragging his mouth down to her neck, while her own hands tugged at his tie. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “What are you going to do”, she giggled, as he nipped at that one particular spot that always had her melting into him. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “Not fall for it.” His hand trailed under her button up, as hers combed through his hair… </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Are you busy tomorrow, Cheng?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Damian froze, his hands nearly losing the grip of his pen, but he kept his head down and his focus on Marinette and the basketball player’s conversation. Gone was the silent, sultry demeanor as she reverted back to her ditzy, innocent self.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, but aren’t you?” she teased, pointing the end of her pen at him. He laughed, gently batting at her hand. The popular student gave a knowing smile and turned around to join in the other conversations around them, allowing Marinette some privacy with the athlete.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“After, I mean”, he answered, pursing his lips into a friendly grin. “I wanted to hang out with you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, that’d be really fun.” Marinette leaned towards him in her seat, while Damian hid a cough in his fist, feeling the irritation and jealousy build. Because <em> damn it </em>— Marinette knew exactly what she was fucking doing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He was seconds away from drop kicking the poor student away from her, and tossing his not-quite-girlfriend over his shoulder in an act of catty possessiveness, but the sound of her laughing stopped that thought.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“But I have a date around that time.” Marinette shrugged, giving an oblivious smile as she ignored the way his classmate deflated at her answer.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s cool. Maybe, another time?” he said, as his disappointment leaked through, and Damian swelled with pride watching how Marinette hardly batted an eye at him, still maintaining that sweet smile.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sure!” But before she could say anymore, the door to the classroom unlocked as the professor angrily signalled for all of them to leave.</p>
<hr/>
<p>“You should let me borrow that book sometime.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Damian only murmured his agreement, as he skillfully maneuvered his way through traffic.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Did you have fun in detention?” Marinette asked, her hand resting on top of his own as he shifted gears.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Don’t be like that,” she huffed with a tired smile. “What got you even more grumpier than usual?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>With a sigh, remembering how pushy she can be when she wanted to, Damian relented, figuring that it was easier to communicate rather than staying silent.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re really popular’, he admitted, refusing to meet her curious eyes. “A little too popular.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So you’re jealous?” she tilted her head, and for once, she held back her mischievousness, only looking at him in surprise and intrigue</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, I guess I am”, he said. The car slowly rolled to a stop at the light. “It’s not that I want you to change or do anything about it. I’m just frustrated that no one can be aware of us and whatever the fuck this is between us.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His fingers flexed over the wheel in an attempt to keep cool, but the indignation was building. The car  was silent for a moment, and they were both left to sit in the thick air. Damian dealt with his own thoughts of how his status (and his vigilante duties to her unawareness) lead him to ultimately keep their relationship a secret for both their sakes’.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I kind of just want you all to myself…” he quietly confessed, aware of how Marinette pursed her lips in pensive thought.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I love you”, she whispered, Damian turned to find her hair concealing the blush on her cheeks. “I really, really love you. And I, also, kind of hate when other people talk about how cute you are and how they’d totally sleep with you if you weren’t such a dick to them. But I really, really love you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Her hand raised to cover her face, while her words were muffled by her palms, “I really love you so much. I don’t even think you understand how infatuated I am with you. And please don’t change if you don’t want to, but I really like spending time with you and only you even if you are a spoilsport — which you sometimes are, I wasn’t lying when I agreed with them. And you can be a real stick-in-the-mud when you want to be. And not that I’m blaming you for the class being stupid, but I think it was totally funny and petty of you to let Professor Egger go through that door first, when you could have easily avoided that water bucket yourself—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Okay, okay”, Damian said, asking her to stop her gushing about him. He didn’t realize how humiliatingly warm he had gotten.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“But I really, <em> really </em>love you, Damian”, Marinette met his eyes with that shy smile saved only for him. “Your iciness and all.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re — you’re…” he struggled, before dropping his head into the steering wheel to give an audible groan. “You’re too fucking cute, and I fucking hate you for that.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Shut up”, Marinette giggled as a honk resounded behind them. “It’s green.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Damian tiredly flipped the impatient car off, nonetheless, he drove forward, feeling a bit lighter.</p>
<hr/>
<p>“A little late today”, his father drily commented from the kitchen counter. Yet, he, nor Alfred, removed their attention away from their tasks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Egger got a little wet and decided to be a prick to everyone”, Damian answered as he settled down on one of the kitchen stools and drank from his water flask.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I read that in the email he sent out”, his father sipped his own glass of water. “And I almost thought that you and Marinette were caught in the act in the fiction section.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Damian promptly choked on his water. Alfred’s gloved hand promptly padded at his back, but his father and Alfred kept their passive looks, as Damian coolly tried to pass it off.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We weren’t”, he muttered, an uncomfortable and embarrassed smile forming on his lips. Yet, he refused to meet their unimpressed gazes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I could have Dick tell you the hidden passageways that I discovered at the academy in my days. Much more private”, his father said, smirking as Damian threw his head back and groaned his disgust and embarrassment.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh my fucking god.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>now, damian gets his words of affirmation 🥰 </p>
<p>as of now, this will be the final part of the gotham academy story! (but I <i>might</i> change my mind later on lol)</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>once again, I added more resources/carrds. black lives matter yesterday, today, and forevermore.<br/><a href="https://blackmentalhealthmatters.carrd.co/">blackmentalhealthmatters.carrd.co</a><br/><a href="https://sayhernames.carrd.co/">sayhernames.carrd.co</a><br/><a href="https://www.blackgirlssmile.org/resources">blackgirlssmile.org</a></p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>    <a href="https://www.therealrjm.com/real-talk/ways-to-help-protect-black-women17"><b>Over 20 Ways to Help Protect Black Women</b> by TheRealRJM</a></p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>    <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TgItkJCm09c">Anderson .Paak's <i>Lockdown</i>.
</a><br/><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E-1Bf_XWaPE">H.E.R.'s <i> I Can't Breathe</i>.</a></p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>    <a href="https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co">blacklivesmatters.carrd.co</a><br/><a href="http://lgbtqpl.carrd.co">lgbtqpl.carrd.co</a><br/><a href="https://trans--rights.carrd.co">trans--rights.carrd.co</a><br/><a href="https://yemencrisis.carrd.co">yemencrisis.carrd.co</a><br/><a href="https://helppalestine.carrd.co">helppalestine.carrd.co</a><br/><a href="https://standwithhongkong.carrd.co">standwithhongkong.carrd.co</a><br/><a href="https://issuesintheworld.carrd.co">issuesintheworld.carrd.co</a><br/></p>
</blockquote>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. rapture — to hell with everything</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>R is for <i>Rapture</i>.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>tw: explosions, apocalypse setting</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong><em>rapture</em> — to hell with everything</strong>
</p><hr/>
<p>Marinette stood idly on the monorail, exhausted down to her bones. On top of waking up at an ungodly hour almost every day, she had to endure a six-hour rehearsal that had been running well overtime for three days straight. Her only source of energy was the excited anticipation to see him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Damian had been gone for nearly two weeks on an emergency business trip that in his words “absolutely required his attention”. Even with her silent sulking as she pitifully helped him pack a few shirts and socks in a large duffel, he still had the audacity to go on his trip.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The only lasting memory was when Marinette walked him to the front door of their shared apartment, and he flicked her forehead in faux annoyance, causing her to burst into laughter and break her kicked-puppy demeanor.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “Stop pouting, and I’ll see you soon.” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “That hurt…”, she giggled, rubbing at her forehead. But his hand swiftly grabbed hers, and he pressed a kiss to where his forefinger impacted her head. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “You’re so dramatic. I’ll call you as much as I can.” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “That’s only, like, once a day!” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He barely bothered to argue with her after that, only stating flatly that he had to go, and her plan of keeping him home by arguing was not going to work. And ever since then, she had been counting the days until this very day of his return.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Her leg bounced with each passing stop, edging closer and closer to her street to where he would be waiting for her, probably asleep on the futon and cranky from the jet lag. She thought of ways to awaken him whether it would be peppering his face with kisses or scream his name once she entered the doorway. The thought of letting him rest crossed her mind, but she saved that as the alternative plan, depending on how tired her boyfriend truly was.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A smile grew on her face when the doors slid open to reveal her stop. Taking an eager step forward, she made to move through the crowd. Her body was tired down to her bones, but Damian was worth the excitement pulsing through her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And then, there was the shaking, as she and everyone lurched forward.</p><hr/>
<p>Damian awoke to the sound of the jet undergoing turbulence just outside of the cabin. He sat up in the seat for a moment, analyzing his father’s strained face under the mask along with the shaking of the aircraft in the darkened clouds. Yet, his father managed to stabilize their carrier, safely passing through the small storm.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Don’t kill us now”, Damian snorted, relaxing in his seat. “I’ve still got shit to do today.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His father raised a brow, looking back towards the sky. He carefully pulled on the yoke, lowering the plane towards the open-mouthed cave under the manor.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That excited to see her?” the man in the cowl questioned his son, but Damian gave a small grin.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, I am”, he said, and for some reason, he felt a little more open to conversation with his father. Despite the discomfort of talking to an equally emotionally stunted man, Damian realized from past experiences that his father would silently appreciate it no matter the short conversation and long silence. “It’s been a while, and we were called so suddenly by Diana. I’m sure she has a lot of pointless events to catch me up on.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But even as he tried to scoff at how trivial their interactions were, he still held a fond smile at the thought of returning to Marinette. He could already picture her squealing and leaping into his arms and refusing to let go.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“She’s sweet. Alfred adores her”, his father cut into his train of thought. At this point, he landed the carrier safely onto the platform, where Alfred waited at a safe distance.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, do you like her?” Damian pursed his lips, the only sign of his nervousness, preparing for either the truth or a roundabout answer.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes. She makes you happy. That’s all that matters to me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Despite his father’s terse response, Damian huffed to muffle the relieved laugh that came from his mouth, but it was all for naught as his grin brightened.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Go shower”, his father said as the hatch lifted.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alfred greeted the two with the barest hints of pleasure on his face.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ve prepared your room for you, Master Damian. That way you can rest before seeing Miss Marinette. From what I was told, her practice at the theatre is running late for the third time this week.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A frown marred his face at the thought of Marinette being run ragged, but he nodded his gratitude towards his pseudo-grandfather.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thank you, Alfred.” He left for the showers within the cave, ignoring the knowing looks from his family.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>By the time, he returned prepared to take a long-anticipated nap, the ground shook, causing him to stumble and grab hold onto the wall. Glass broke as the cave rumbled. Dust and dirt dropped down as some stalactite broke off from the ceiling. One landed uncomfortably close to him, and when he glanced up, his eyes widened to see another jagged piece aiming straight for him. Instincts kicked in, and he leaped out of the way, feeling the breaking remnants of the rocks launch into his back. Soon, the shaking stopped, and Damian took the opportunity to sprint to where his father and Alfred usually remained. Shards of what was a teacup and rocks littered the platform where the computer stood, but his eyes zeroed in on where his father shielded a shocked butler on the floor.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bruce carefully steadied the older man back onto his feet, and he turned to look at Damian with solemn eyes on his stony expression, a contrast from the light atmosphere fifteen minutes earlier. His attention then caught on the large computer screen displaying a live feed of multiple international newscasts showcasing their cities burning and falling apart with headlines that read: <em> COMET ASTERIA SET TO HIT EARTH IN INDEFINITE HOURS. APOCALYPTIC IMPACT. </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>There were some feeds of civilians’ social media live-streaming large asteroids leaving behind pink streaks of clouds and smoke as they crashed into the ground.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Kent sent me news”, was all his father said, but the pieces easily fell together, and his stomach churned at the thought that they may not be so lucky this time.</p><hr/>
<p>It was like a pause in what would have been an otherwise normal day.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>After the metro pulled an emergency stop to one of the closest stations, there was a simultaneous ring and buzz of phones, every screen was filled with a bright red emergency alert, almost as red as the sky before it flashed to the sullen faces of the city’s local news station with the words of an impending comet set to annihilate the earth.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As the news anchor spoke with faux confidence to take shelter and hold their loved ones close, the streets she stood in panicked, screaming as they ran towards their homes, in and out of buildings towards wherever they needed to go.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Marinette felt her knees weakened as the news of their imminent doom settled, barely registering how horrified civilians pushed her left and right, taking her further away.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Her breath came in short and fast, and in that short moment that felt like an eternity, she was lost.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Something vibrated into her hand, and it was then that she realized how hard she had been gripping her phone, leaving indentations into her skin. But the name on the screen spurred her into action, quickly thinking of plans on how to escape the chaos to get back to him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Her legs took her to a vacant alley overlooked by many of the people, and she answered the incessant buzzing of her phone.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Damian”, she gasped, feeling herself breathe for the first time.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But his voice was drowned out as the sound of a large meteor soaring too close to the buildings above her.</p><hr/>
<p>“I don’t care”, Damian spoke, placing his mask on. “Tell the Boy Scout to fix whatever that bald asshole’s satellite did.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Damian.” The younger Wayne looked down, pushing away his trepidation of never seeing the two again.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You need to help him. It’s your job”, Damian emphasized, clenching his fist. He knows that he should be by their side, searching for a way to prevent this catastrophe, or at the very least, be with his family in their last moments. But Marinette was still out in the city, enduring the ugly way humanity tends to fall apart when they have everything and nothing to lose.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was enough motivation for him to swing a leg over the seat and place his helmet on. His voice sounded fake, despite the attempt of determined reassurance that they will see each other again— alive.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But this was something that his father and his team weren’t prepared for, especially when they were all separated by endless distances — cities, countries, fucking planets. Could they really stop a natural disaster like this in such a short time?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Once, I get her, I’ll meet you and Alfred in Metropolis.” He decided that they could, that they needed to stop this because he still got shit to do.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He leaned forward in his seat to start the bike. The engine hummed, and the walls pulled away for an opening. But a firm hand gripped his shoulder.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ll see you later.” His father confirmed, conveying all that should have been said. A moment between father and son was shared, but the trembling and chaos witnessed on the large screens forced them to move.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“When we reunite, I’ll have tea prepared for you and Miss Marinette, Damian”, Alfred said with the same wise smile he always wore. And it gave him hope that they just might make it out of this.</p><hr/>
<p>Marinette couldn’t really remember how she got here.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A three-car pile, along with a whole barricade of law enforcements blocked the exit. People begged to be let go as the smoke and dust in the air turned heavier and heavier. But they still were not letting anyone through for some godforsaken reason.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And then the stars in the air began to fall faster and closer with more and more following as they made small and big impacts on the earth. It only set to rile the crowds more, and Marinette couldn’t push her way through any farther, as someone shoved her out of the crowd.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She fell again in a heap, and she worriedly chewed on her lip, thinking of how Damian was on his way to the midpoint, and she wasn’t there because of these damn cops.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> Get back in there. </em> She heard Damian say in her head. <em> Go around. Just stop standing like a fucking idiot. I’m waiting for you. </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Glancing around quickly, she looked to her side and at the evacuated five-story building with access to the fire escapes. If she got to the roofs, she could easily evade all the set up barricades and make her way back down on Aparro Street. It was only a matter of which ones were on the verge of collapsing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The earth shook again, only this time it ripped apart deep crevices in the streets.</p><hr/>
<p><em> Damn it </em>, he cursed as the GPS picked up on the barricades. All hell's breaking loose and the city hall still had the audacity to maintain this fucked up law and order.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He called her again through the Bluetooth of his helmet, praying that the cell phone towers within the cities hadn’t been knocked down.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It rang until a breathless hello came through, and Damian breathed out in relief until anger overcame him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Mari, where the fuck are you!”, he yelled. Immediate guilt hit him, but there was no time to apologize.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> “Damian! There was a blockade! I’m going through the apartment building to get to Aparro! </em>” she said, her voice muffled through the static. He thought quickly and nodded, changing the direction his motorcycle headed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Stay on that street, I’m coming to—“ he tried to finish, but the call ended, and he realized that her phone must have died.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fucking damn it!” he said to himself, pressing more on the gas, as he sped through all the abandoned cars and cracked roads.</p><hr/>
<p>The building adjacent to the apartment collapsed, and Marinette coughed up a lung full of the dust that hit her. It burned at her eyes as she tried to keep the dust and smoke away, but there was too much. Weakly turning so she faced the locked window, Marinette kicked aiming the heel of her sneakers in the very center of the window pane. It finally broke just enough for the hand that wasn’t covering her mouth and nose, to reach in and unlock the window.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She shoved it open, and nearly collapsed onto the broken glass, inhaling the fresher air and allowing for a little break.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> Fourth floor </em> , Marinette thought exhausted. <em> I’m on the fourth floor. </em>One floor away from the roof with another fire escape that will lead her to Aparro.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She looked up, noting how the apartment was empty, most likely due to the evacuation. Another crash resounded from outside and, if possible, the screams just seemed to get louder and louder.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But Marinette refused to go back out there, already heading towards the front door that had been left unceremoniously open.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s okay. Just find the stairs to the roof.” She said to herself, but that was before she ran right out and into a large frame.</p><hr/>
<p>Apartment. She said it was an apartment building.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Damian scanned the building with smaller stories for a lone figure dangerously making her way down to the street, but there was no sign of her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> Was it even an apartment building? </em> he thought, questioning her words. <em> It could have been Doc’s restaurant, or— </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>There was a figure on the roof of some old apartment, and Damian skid his bike to a stop staring straight at it, feeling absolute relief when he saw Marinette and her dark hair waving in the winds.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But her back was turned to him, and she was inching closer and closer to the edge of the roof without even fucking looking and just what the fuck was happening.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But then another figure appeared, large and crazed,  and that bastard was the reason Marinette hardly spared a glance back at the potential, deadly fall.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Either way, Damian did not fucking like it, and he swung himself onto that very roof.</p><hr/>
<p>The man pulled at her arm, practically dragging her to her destination, but Marinette went limp trying to free herself and move on her own accord.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I knew it. Armageddon is here. I fucking knew it”, the man muttered to himself. From what Marinette gathered when she was forcibly dragged to the adjacent apartment was that the man was a conspiracist, who practically went mad with egotistical power and fear that his conspiracy came true.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Let go of me!”, Marinette threatened while she tried to kick him, hit him, anything. Yet, his grip tightened as her screams fell on deaf ears. “Let go! Let me fucking go!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You need to see this! It’s the end of the world!” he said, giddy with each step that they reached the roof, and when the exit door slammed open, Marinette felt her breath catch as she saw all the streaks of pink in the air and in the distance, a nova storm lighted against the sky.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But then her attention caught to the nearby fire escape.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> I just have to get there. I need to get there. Damian is waiting for me. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>With a twist away from his slackened hold, Marinette tried to make a run for it, but then his body blocked her potential exit.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Look at it!” he urged, but it felt more like a threat as he neared her, and she hesitantly took steps back until she felt the low wall separating her escape from this man and the inevitable death of falling.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He was speaking nonsense at this point, and Marinette could barely make out the noise, already pushed to her breaking point. Her hands raised in a stance that prepared for a fight that she would most likely lose. And a thought passed her mind, and she unknowingly spoke it aloud.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I just want to see, Damian. Please, just let me see Damian.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Then, a man appeared in a bomber jacket wearing a red helmet with the R insignia. She blinked as the crazed man that forced her up here was kicked and thrown down the exit stairwell.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Are you okay?” Robin asked as he removed his helmet to reveal the domino mask in place, and Marinette almost made a sassy comment at his casual attire instead of the maroon kevlar he normally wore.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But something itched at the back of her eyes, and her knees trembled until they landed on the floor. The exhaustion and denial that the world was going to end hit her all at once, and she was <em> tired </em> — down to her bones and down to the very fucking marrow.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Robin”, she breathed, no — practically hiccuped and sobbed out. “Can you please take me to my boyfriend? I just want to see him. Please. please. please.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And something is wrapping her into a hug that she knew well.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m here, Marinette”, the hero whispered into her hair, before pulling away to reveal him staring at her with a familiar look that she had only ever seen on Damian.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m right here.” And the mask fell.</p><hr/>
<p>She didn’t freak out as Damian imagined her to. The only sign of shock was her mouth falling agape as she ran through every moment and tried to grab onto the pieces that easily fell together. But Marinette’s shock quickly turned into panic, as more pieces of the comet kept falling to the ground, in bigger eruptions than the last. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Damian, we need to leave”, she tried, but he calmly soothed her, smoothing the crease between her eyebrows. But her gaze remained on the world as it took on a more violent pink hue. The city was burning and tearing down by the second.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s okay”, he whispered. His tone was light, full of hope that he desperately clung onto. His phone buzzed, and he gently stepped away from her. “It’s my father. I’m telling him we’re on the way. Just stay there for a second, alright?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When he was out of earshot, he answered, listening to the static ringing until his father’s voice came through.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Damian”, he said, making his whole world crumble. Because the way his father said his name, so forlorn and hopeless, was all he needed to say.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They couldn’t save them. God damn it, they couldn’t save them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Father”, he choked out, feeling the happiness he had just a moment ago, burn away any hope that they could do the impossible again. “How long?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“...”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That short, huh?” Damian scoffed bitterly. A deprecating smile made his way onto his face, and he glanced to watch Marinette, with her back turned against him, as her eyes kept glued on the growing lightning and storm.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I'm so proud of you”, was all his father said, and Damian couldn’t find the right words to say, and the only thing he could think of was awkward, dark humor to take away the despair.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ll see you soon. And tell Alfred to have my tea ready.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Of course, son”, his father said with a halfhearted chuckle. “I’ll see you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And the call went flat, having lost the last of the signal.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His attention turned to Marinette again, and she wearily called out his name as the ground shook again.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey.” Damian smiled, striding towards her and taking her hands in his. “Hey. It’s okay.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Marinette looked like she wanted to say something, but her gaze was caught between him and the world all falling apart around them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, no. It’s okay. Stop. Stop looking, and only look at me.” His forehead rested on hers as she stared up at him in complete realization of their tragic faith.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You kept me waiting, you know?” Damian whispered against her mouth.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I know”, Marinette laughed, between the tears and the bright beam she wore for him. “I’m really bad at directions.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I know.” Damian grinned, ignoring the incoming comet from the corner of his eye. The thing was larger than he expected, and the impact would destroy what was left of their already broken city.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I know”, he repeated, and their lips met as the world crumbled beneath them.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hi, I just want to let everyone know that I had this chapter ready for some time, however, I decided to hold off on it due to some similarities with what had occurred in Beirut, Lebanon. As many are aware, there was a large chemical explosion that had killed and injured many people. The country is working towards recovery, which requires monetary donations to their Red Cross. I am providing a carrd below for where you can donate. Signing petitions would not really help this cause.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> <a href="https://helplebanon.carrd.co/">helplebanon.carrd.co</a></p>
<p> </p>
<p>This chapter took inspiration mainly from Ariana Grande's music video, <a href="https://youtu.be/BPgEgaPk62M"><i>One Last Time</i></a>, along with many apocalyptic movies/shows and comics such as <i>Seoul Station</i> (2016), and DC's <i>DCeased</i> comics.</p>
<p>Please, let me know if this chapter is tone-deaf to the situation at hand, and I will immediately take it down and replace it with a new chapter.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <br/>
    <a href="https://blackmentalhealthmatters.carrd.co/">blackmentalhealthmatters.carrd.co</a>
    <br/>
    <a href="https://sayhernames.carrd.co/">sayhernames.carrd.co</a>
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    <a href="https://www.blackgirlssmile.org/resources">blackgirlssmile.org</a>
    <br/>
    <a href="https://www.therealrjm.com/real-talk/ways-to-help-protect-black-women17"><b>Over 20 Ways to Help Protect Black Women</b> by TheRealRJM</a>
  </p>
  <p>
    <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TgItkJCm09c">Anderson .Paak's <i>Lockdown</i>.
</a>
    <br/>
    <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E-1Bf_XWaPE">H.E.R.'s <i> I Can't Breathe</i>.</a>
  </p>
  <p>
    <a href="https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co">blacklivesmatters.carrd.co</a>
    <br/>
    <a href="http://lgbtqpl.carrd.co">lgbtqpl.carrd.co</a>
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    <a href="https://helppalestine.carrd.co">helppalestine.carrd.co</a>
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    <a href="https://standwithhongkong.carrd.co">standwithhongkong.carrd.co</a>
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    <a href="https://issuesintheworld.carrd.co">issuesintheworld.carrd.co</a>
    <br/>
  </p>
</blockquote>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. scorpio — always chasing the hunter</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>S is for <i>Scorpio</i>.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong><em>scorpio</em> — always chasing the hunter</strong>
</p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Day 1 </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He was first introduced to Marinette as an intern.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His brother had entered his floor, with a woman by his side, who seemed to be nodding along to whatever his brother had said, even giving some of her feedback until they reached Damian’s own “private” (as private as glass windows for walls can allow) office in the corner of the floor.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Out of politeness, Tim knocked on the glass and opened the door, allowing for a hesitant woman, who looked between an oblivious Tim and a glaring Damian. Nevertheless, she stepped in with a polite greeting.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey, Damian. This is your new intern”, Tim casually explained, nodding for the woman to continue.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>There was a pause, but then she forced a serene smile, nodding her head at him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m Marinette. I look forward to working with you for the next six months.” She was about to proffer her hand up in a handshake, but Damian did not lighten the glare directed at his smug brother.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I wasn’t told of an internship”, he said, completely ignoring the deflating woman, but Tim’s smile only seemed to curl more deviously.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The program only offered five people within different areas of the company, but Marinette’s resume was very impressive that I just opened another spot. Here. In your department. Because I’m the CEO”, Tim proudly explained, earning another glare. Marinette glanced perplexed and a bit entertained between the two brothers.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em> Why </em> my department”, Damian found himself gritting out the words, pretending like he was not on the verge of throwing Tim through the glass walls (he’d survive it anyway given how their business suits were practically armored) when they both were aware of how having an assistant will impede on their work that focused on vigilantism.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I thought she’d be more comfortable learning from someone around her age.” He smiled at the woman, who only gave a strained one back, embarrassed at being the discussion of their discourse. “Besides, this season is picking up fast, and I can’t have you <em> losing </em> reports like last time.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The way Tim emphasized “losing” almost made Damian wince if it weren’t for them being in the presence of the awkward woman. He was reminded of last month, when he managed to lose his entire company laptop (which held important documents that were merely saved to his desktop), after giving chase to an annoying man in green who spouted off riddles and dad jokes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tim managed to recover all of it, even the ones that were simply saved to the computer, of course, after a majority of the night of him shooting off glares to the unapologetic Wayne and “Put your damn files on the cloud! It’s secured! I programmed it!” and “Why the fuck did you even think that you could hold your laptop on the fucking motorcycle during a car chase?!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>At the time, Damian merely rolled his eyes, knowing that most of his grievances were about his time being limited from playing on his newly built PC. But now, it seemed that Tim had been planning revenge since then.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The two brothers stared down each other hard, Tim with a smug raise of his brow and Damian with a look that passed off for indifference, save for the way his glare narrowed at the man.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Excuse me”, Marinette said halfheartedly, “But I wouldn’t mind working in a different area if it gets in the way of your brother, Mister Drake.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No”, Tim genuinely smiled at her, breaking the silent war with his younger brother. “You’ll be staying right here. Bye!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And before Damian could retort, his brother was out the door, leaving the two in awkward silence. Marinette tried to break it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Um Sir, should I set up my work on the empty desk outside?” she asked, standing tall, despite the worried look in her eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Damian sighed at her and returned to his work, as he grunted the closest thing to an affirmation.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Do whatever.”</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p>
  <em> Week 1 </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>One thing that he noticed about what’s-her-face is that she was damn near an obnoxious anomaly in their monochrome world.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Not many in his department (not that there were many people given how they just created this small department of WE last year) would dare to venture out of the normal and professional attire that dealt with black or white suits. Yet, Marinette was a clear contrast between her and the other employees as she wore bright two piece suits or stylish skirts and blouses. and on the days she wore white or black, it was always paired with bright gold or silver jewelry and a pretty glossy lip color.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Not to mention how she was always so goddamn happy and polite all the time. He remembered sluggishly holding the elevator door for her the other day. After giving a professional hello, she merely hummed a little tune the whole ten floors up, radiating this sunshine-like energy, something he abhorred at the moment after Jason thought it would be so funny to kick him against the side of the building the night before. They spent hours playing this abusive game of tag on the rooftops, trying to one-up one another on who can fuck up the other the most.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Damian could say that he won, after cutting Jason’s line mid-swing and watching him fall onto some old abandoned car. (He got up okay, and there was only a slight limp in his step that morning. He’ll get over it.)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But in the elevator, and through the phone, and in the break room, copy room, any fucking room for that matter, Marinette was too damn bright, a major distraction for anyone on their floor, including him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>There were more times than he would have liked where he found himself staring after her through his glass wall. The way she would murmur the contents of emails and files to herself as she would stretch out the cramps from her wrists. The way she would sometimes let her hair down from its tight ponytail and massage at her temples. Also, the way that she would roll her eyes and make a face after one of the employees would try to flirt with her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>it was distracting. She was distracting— a damn nuisance to him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And if she wasn’t so good at her job, Damian would have kicked her back to Tim. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>After he let her flounder around the first day, she quickly caught the gist of her tasks and performed them to the fullest and then some. She knew when to direct calls to him, when to put them on hold, and when to hang up on the other irritating regional directors.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He recalled the time Tim called to check in on him, but one look directed at her through the glass window, and she picked up on the message.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “Sorry, Mister Drake, but Mister Wayne said.” And she promptly hung up on him. He nodded, satisfied at her proper reaction, and she responded with a polite smile, giggling a bit at the two’s pettiness, before returning to the data inputting. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Speaking of which, Marinette walked towards the office with a cup of tea in one hand and the reviewed reports in the other. She knocked on the glass door with a sheepish smile, and he signaled for her to enter.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sir, I revised the flexible budget performance, but there are some inconsistencies that I wanted to look over with you”, she explained, walking over to him. Today, she wore a sleek white blazer and skirt set that flared halfway down her thighs. Her jacket was left open to reveal a soft blue bustier-like top that matched the dainty earring revealed by perfectly placed clips in her hair.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> A distraction </em>, he reminded himself, but out loud he said, “Let me see it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Once, he was given the report, he complimented her perception of noticing these subtle mistakes that were covered up. He already figured out that one of their partners was skimming over the revenues. But that irritation was only irked by Marinette’s presence.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Not just her presence within his office, but her presence <em> beside </em> him. Instead of standing patiently in front of his desk, she decided to cross that barrier and stand to the very right of his office chair.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I noticed that some of the calculations were not adding up, but there was a clear pattern of the same missing percentages from the last few months”, she said, leaning more into his space, as she pointed at a few random numbers that were correct. Damian was aware of that, but what concerned him most was how too fucking close she was.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His nose taking in the unfamiliar smell of… her mixed in with a floral scent coming from the paper coffee cups offered in the break room.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Is that earl grey?” Damian interrupted, turning to meet her face to face. She paused as if realizing the short distance between the tips of their noses and straightened her posture, taking a quiet half-step back.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It is, sir.” She cleared her throat before answering. “I could brew you some? I’ll be right back.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Damian was just about to say no, thinking of how her duties as an intern do not involve anything outside of their contracted duties, but Marinette was already halfway out the door, refusing to meet his eyes as the tips of her ears flushed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Moments later, he finished a detailed email to their lawyer and accountant about the false reports, and Marinette returned with a steaming paper cup of tea.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s still hot”, she said, passing it to him. He wordlessly grabbed it and stared down at the steam coming from the cap. He suspiciously watched her from the corner of his eye while she fidgeted, unsure of what she should do at this moment.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> it couldn’t be poisoned, </em> he thought, subtly inhaling the smell, and there was that floral scent again. The same one that smelled like her own. Being a vigilante and assassin involved training that dealt with building a high tolerance against poison. Drinking this should merely be child’s play, he thought, watching how she looked on with clear anticipation for something. Even if Marinette was an assassin out to get him, she would be a shitty one. This woman wears everything right on her sleeve.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He took a sip, letting the liquid slosh in his mouth, before swallowing. The heat irritated his mouth, but there wasn’t any burning sensation or the like. It was just… a normal cup of tea. A damn good cup of tea, if he dared to say.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s good”, he approved, and Marinette let out a breath of relief. “Was this tea packet in the break room?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh! Eh— no, I just brought it from home”, Marinette floundered. She was always so professional when it came to matters of her job and work, but casual conversations seemed to throw her off, especially when she talked to him. “Actually, my uncle sent me it from Tibet. He owns a tea shop there, and most of the leaves are grown from the local farm down the mountain.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I see”, he muttered, taking another sip. “Well, give my compliments to your uncle.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Marinette nodded, and he returned to his computer screen, reading out the barrage of potential people who were involved in the skimming of revenue. Yet, the intern still stood awkwardly in his office, before she broke the silence.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I could make you some tea”, She offered, with a sheepish smile. “When we’re both at the office, of course. I could just leave it on your desk in the morning…”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Damian stared, giving her a weird look. “That’s not part of your job description. I could make my own drinks.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I know”, Marinette quickly tried to recover from the rejection and began to awkwardly ramble. “But I want to. You always look so tired, and my uncle would be so disappointed to know that one of his admirers couldn’t drink his tea.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He raised a brow at the word ‘admirer’, nevertheless, stayed silent, mulling over her words. If she really wanted to, he shouldn’t stop her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Do whatever.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His answer was clipped, but Marinette didn’t seem to mind, wearing a relieved grin as she practically skipped out of the room.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Damian watched her sit down, ultimately forgetting that he could see her as she grinned stupidly to herself the whole afternoon. He scoffed, shaking his head, only to purse his lips to keep from snickering.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> A damn distraction. </em>
</p><hr/>
<p>
  <em> Month 2 </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The whole floor filed into the meeting room, where Damian awaited with the head of HR for the monthly seminar meeting they had. This time, it focused on social media presence when representing WE.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>There were collective murmurs about the latest office scandal causing everyone to undergo retraining due to how some accountant thought it would be funny to post ignorant comments and horrible slurs to an up and coming defense attorney on their <em> Tw*tter. </em> They were promptly fired from WE, and the attorney was given proper compensation, via donations to the youth programs that she promotes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“He’d always been an asshole”, someone whispered. “But I can’t believe he was that stupid to post under his real profile, linking his job. Like, he couldn’t have hidden behind a stupid, anime avatar?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em> They </em> are getting real bold, nowadays”, their seatmate quietly responded, but not discreet enough as Damian cleared his throat behind them. He glared down at the two, watching how they immediately snapped their heads to the speaker as their backs straightened.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Beside him, Marinette snorted lightly at what transpired, her digital pen gliding against her tablet as she adamantly took notes… </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Or what he perceived to be notes. In one corner of the tablet screen, she drew a cartoonish version of him with curved arrows coming out of his temples. It took him a moment to realize that she had drawn horns that went nicely with the way his mouth spouted out fire.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> “So, your freedom of speech is protected” </em> , the HR representative went on. <em> “But you signed a contract that will allow us to terminate your employment here if you were to represent the company and our ideals poorly…” </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Damian leaned a bit towards her, his attention never straying from the speaker.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Focus”, he muttered, and he didn’t realize how close he was until he saw the way his breath tickled the few flyaway strands of her hair.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“...Yes, sir”, she answered back just as quietly, but there was a silent shake in her shoulders as let out another snort. His gaze tensed at how her immediate reaction was to laugh at being caught for making fun of him. Yet, what surprised him most was how he wanted to laugh with her, too. She was a ditz, but a funny one at that.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Mister Wayne do you want to say a few final words before this seminar ends?” the HR representative asked, wearily. All of his employees turned to the back of the room to await his answer and never had he shifted back to his work persona so fast. He dropped the corners of his lips into a straight line, eyeing each employee, saved for Marinette, who kept her head down to allow him the spotlight.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes”, he nodded his thanks, before continuing. “You could say whatever you want, but as we said to you before you were hired, my family, the company, and I will not stand for racist, misogynistic, and dehumanizing remarks or actions of any kind— no matter how transparent or subtle. If we find any, or if it was brought to our attention, you will be picking your shit up from the dumpster. Thank you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And Damian retreated to his office without another word. He knew that there would be some people lingering behind in the meeting room to ask HR other idiotic questions that could lead through a loophole, but soon enough plenty of people began filtering back to their desks, chattering about this month’s seminar and the recent scandal.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What do you think next month’s seminar is going to be about?” one of his employees asked, not realizing how his office door was ajar and how he can hear every word of their conversation. However, he tried to ignore their voices, no matter how loud they sounded.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I heard it was about dating in the workplace”, their companion quipped. “Did you see how Marinette was making heart eyes at Mister Wayne again?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His fingers froze at that, his search bar filling out <em> scarecrow arkham breakou5szz </em>. There was a pitiful tsk, followed by a shake of their head.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That girl is just going to get her heartbroken.” The two employees’ voices trailed off as they neared their desks, but Damian was still caught off guard with the indirect confession.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He suspected it a week ago, when he noticed her easing more into casual conversations and how her smiles brightened when they spoke with each other, but he just assumed that she was just kissing ass to receive a permanent position. But hearing that others in the office could see her infatuation only confirmed it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Marinette was attracted to him— whether it was money or looks or companionship. She liked him, which meant that she wanted something from him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>There was a knock at the door, and Marinette entered carrying two cups of tea.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey, I got your last tea for the day.” She smiled, placing the cup down near his mousepad.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>With a genuine thanks, Damian took a well-earned sip, eyeing the way she would smile proudly to herself. He had, yet, to actually witness her heart eyes, but the blush blooming across her cheeks and nose was endearing. And when she hugged her tablet closer to her chest like a shy schoolgirl, that was kind of cute, as well.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Speaking of tablet…</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You should have paid more attention in the seminar, Marinette”, Damian lightly reprimanded. “It was for your benefit to understand the ideals this company represents.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sorry, Sir”, Marinette apologized, without sounding sorry if that light snicker and smirk was anything to go by. “You’re just a little distracting.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Damian blinked, but the intern was already half-way out the door, humming proudly to herself as if she didn’t just flirt with her boss.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He watched her settle back into her desk with a satisfied grin on her damn cute face and shook his head at her unprofessional and immature antics.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> A damn nuisance, </em> he thought and returned to his own tasks.</p><hr/>
<p>
  <em> Month 3 </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Damian was in a rush, having woken up later than usual after another infiltration into Crane’s hideout with Dick the night before. And just like the times when he was still a preteen, the two kicked ass working in tandem with one another, and finally, putting the ex-professor back in Arkham.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Throughout the fight, Dick thought it would be the perfect time to catch up with his younger brother on what was new and how he was handling the new branch.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “It’s getting there”, Damian grunted, tossing another masked man to the side of the room, he easily evaded and swung his foot up for a kick to his torso. “We’re in the process of buying out a software company near insolvency. Too many talents, but not enough leadership.” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “Good job, D”, His brother congratulated after knocking another man with his escrima stick and kneeing him in the face to knock him out. “Tim and B are really anticipating that. They thought you wouldn’t make any major progress for another six months.” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “Yeah, well, I have a good team”, Damian said, ignoring one particular face in mind. It was Marinette, who brought it up. Apparently, one of her old friends from school had visited her and complained about his current employer and their lack of clients along with their poor management. And it was just by coincidence that her friend’s employer was one of the companies they had been considering to buy out. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of their target, landing behind them, raising his firearms at the two vigilantes. Damian and his brother shared a knowing look before the two perfectly aimed their knives at the barrels. Crane seemed surprised at the sudden loss of his defense, but that look quickly dissolved as Damian knocked him out with a swing to the head. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was an easy mission to take down the Scarecrow, but Damian underestimated how exhausted he got when he arrived home, immediately collapsing into his bed after shedding his armored attire.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He awoke with lines on his face and a shock to realize that he hit snooze three times. Foregoing his usual morning routine, he cursed realizing that he had to drive through the morning rush hour as everyone and their mothers tried to get into the city.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Already in a pissed off mood, he scowled at any employee who dared try to smirk and joke about their boss’ busy night. However, it didn’t work on the Co-CEO of WE, as he proudly sat at <em> his </em> desk.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Get the fuck out.” Damian spat, leaving no room to argue.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I have news in regards to your newest acquisition”, Tim offered simply, leaning back further. To add more insult he brought his legs up to rest on his fucking desk.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Say it, and get the fuck out.” Yet, Tim did not flinch as his grin broadened.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’ll be flying out to Jump City. The shareholders of Mikron want to have a meeting before they officially sign the papers.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And?” Damian rolls his eyes, already expecting O’Jeneus to be one of those pricks that expect everyone at their beck and call. “I’m already aware of that. Now, get the fuck up and leave.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Next week for ten days”, Tim finished, still wearing that shit-eating grin, especially when Damian froze, his eyes widening at the <em> very </em> last minute business trip.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> “Next week”, </em> he repeated dangerously, already on the verge of just flying out tonight and smacking that bald-headed asshole.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yep. Next week”, Tim confirmed, standing up and casually stretching. “He and his shareholders are doing one last attempt to cop out of the agreement, and he specifically requested you, Mister Director.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s barely enough fucking time to gather the lawyers.“</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We’ve managed to gather a last-minute group of lawyers who would arrive for the meeting on the 8th. After that, you have a three day rest period until you fly back to Gotham.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Please, tell me that Tam is part of the team”, Damian almost sighed, remembering how that attorney stood out from the rest of the lawyers. She was the only person competent enough to actually be a damn lawyer. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Miss Fox is coming a day early to help you with the presentation and keep you in check.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Then, who else is keeping me in check the other days?” he questioned, narrowing his eyes at his brother, who only hummed at that.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Up to you.” Tim shrugged, walking towards the door, but Damian watched him carefully. “But you cant bring Ellen Yee because she’s on maternity leave. And Bialyan Queen is on vacation. Jaime, also, took the week off to help with his little sister’s wedding.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Milagro’s wedding is next week?” Damian questioned aloud, somewhat going off tangent. He made a mental note to send over a gift for his old fellow Titan’s little sister.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yep”, Tim confirmed. “So, that basically leaves one of the lower-level employees for you to choose from.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s practically no one!” Damian groaned, hearing his brother’s chuckle.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m sure you’ll find someone”, he said cryptically, and Damian watched as his head nodded to a certain intern, sipping away at her tea while flipping through the countless paperwork and making notes here and there. Tim left with those parting words, leaving Damian to stew in his irritating dilemma.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He had to agree, that Marinette seemed to be the only one available and competent enough to handle his egregious tasks, but the consequences didn’t seem worth it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He’d rather deal with processing all of the target company’s ledgers by himself than fuel the floor’s unhealthy obsession with him and his intern.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>News of Marinette’s infatuation on him spread fast in the office and people began to <em> ‘ship’ </em> the two together. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Far too many times, he would catch the waggle of some employee’s eyebrow when Marinette entered his office, or he would overhear some of the more gossipy employees squealing about <em> “the way he looks at her!” </em> or whatever they were projecting on the duo.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>No fucking way does he want to deal with that, especially coming back from a hellish business trip like this one. He’ll just have to overlook all the monthly and annual transactions, calculate the potential revenues and values for the next year or so, and look over the licensing agreement, and…</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He pauses, thinking that even doing all of this within ten days exceeds his limitations. So with a distressed sigh, he picked up the call pressing <em> “7” </em> for the intern’s speed dial, watching how she glanced at him with a hint of curiosity before grabbing the phone and placing it between her shoulders. </p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> “Hello, Mister Wayne.” </em> She smiles at him before her focus returned to diligently typing at her computer.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Marinette”, He began, watching her raise a brow at the seriousness in his voice. “I need you to clear out your schedule for next week.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>By the time the whole floor left for the day, a majority of his employees had heard of the news that their ship is going on a business trip together. He remembered pinching the bridge of his nose when he heard another squeal of <em> “I hope there will only be one bed!” </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>On his way to the elevator, he passed by Marinette’s desk, reminded of how she eagerly agreed to go with him. She nodded excitedly through the window, wearing a broad smile that damn near blinded him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He stepped into the elevator and his gaze fell back on her desk with the fake little orchid and a bright pink pen left in the little pot.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> “I would love to join you, Mister Wayne! It would be a good opportunity for me!” </em> Marinette said, breathlessly into the phone.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Damian scoffed at the thought and shook his head at the intern.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> A damn annoyance. </em>
</p><hr/>
<p>
  <em> Month 3.2 </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We’re so sorry, Miss Wayne”, the hotel concierge apologized to the jet-lagged duo. “We canceled the adjoining suite after we were told by the company that they were pushing the reservation up. However, none of them are available until tomorrow night.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Er, I’m not—”, Marinette tried to deny that perception of the relationship, but Damian, cranky from the five-hour flight that included another one-hour layover, cut in.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Is there any other suite available”, He watched as the concierge inaudibly gulp and curl into themself under his intense gaze, a clear contrast to how they politely treated Marinette.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, the penthouse suite is available…”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We’ll take that one”, Damian answered, handing over a black card to the shocked concierge, while Marinette pursed her lips in worry.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They quickly input their information, glancing at the two every other second, just wondering how someone goes from two single suites to the penthouse.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Marinette attempted to catch his eye, but he promptly ignored her while signing a few papers and taking the two gold keycards.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They walk in silence, the only sound being the rolling of her suitcase as she dragged it behind her. They cramp themselves into the elevator, and the young Wayne was grateful for choosing a large duffle bag to hang between them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Um— I could sleep on the couch”, Marinette said, trying to ease her awkwardness.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No need”, Damian sighed, shoving his hands in his pocket and leaning his shoulder against the wall. “The penthouse has other rooms, so you’ll be getting your own bed.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, I-I see..” Was that disappointment he heard in her voice. He rolled his eyes, watching how they almost reach the top floor. From his peripheral, he took note of how she bit her lip, no doubt overanalyzing how he ignored the moniker of “Miss Wayne”.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He probably should say something, make it clear that he was not interested in her in any way, whatsoever. Sure, she was pretty, but that was just facts. He was, also, positive that she was only attracted to him because of his money or looks. It wasn’t like she knew who he truly was outside of an aloof boss that was trying to get shit done.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Mister Wayne”, Marinette hesitantly called out to him as the elevator dinged and opened their doors to reveal a long stretch of hallway to the grand double doors.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ignore what they said. Just because someone thought we were married, doesn’t make us married”, he said, barely looking at her as they reached their room. He swipes to the gold keycard and leads her into the modernly furnished, monochrome room. The floors were a nice, clean marble and a majority of the furniture, including the rounded couch placed into the sunken floor, was a nice shade of grey. He took in the view of the city, which was exposed through the floor-to-ceiling windows that lead to a long stretch of balcony. In the distance, he saw the infamous shape of the tower he used to reside in his teen years, thinking back to when he first joined the juvenile team of metas.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“...What?” Marinette said, interrupting his nostalgia. It was only then that he realized that she wasn’t admiring the view, but looking at him strangely offended.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What.” He narrowed his gaze at her, wondering what he did to cause her to look so insulted.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I wasn’t going to bring up the misunderstanding about our platonic relationship, Sir”, Marinette began, putting on a professional air. “I wanted to let you know that my friend from Mikron will be visiting me after we review the ledgers tonight.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh.” Damian said, his voice tight. He nodded his head in understanding not just because her message went through, but because he knew where he went wrong. And that was to assume that Marinette even had a crush on him in the first place.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It all just began as rumors, and it was possible that her harmless flirting can be perceived as just over-friendliness, and maybe, he was under the impression that she liked him because <em> everyone </em> liked him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And fuck, had he really been misinterpreting the situation this whole time?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I just wanted to give you a heads up out of courtesy, since we are sharing this… room”, Marinette said, placing her hands behind her back and standing tall. Despite being in loose jeans and sneakers, she still managed to look as professional as she did in the office.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Damian coughed, ignoring the bruised ego and slight disappointment. But he calmly walked into the primary room, calling out over his shoulder.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Do whatever.” And he promptly shut the door, ignoring Marinette’s confused expression as she tilted her head.</p><hr/>
<p>
  <em> Month 3.3 </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Damian was on the verge of exploding.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>On the seventh day of his trip, the shareholder’s meeting that lasted for seven hours. Three of the hours consisting of the presentation that he put together (and Marinette reviewed) until he went cross-eyed, interruptions that totaled for an hour and a half, and the rest of the time going to the shareholder’s fighting amongst themselves about the potential failure of his branch buying out Mikron.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Marinette, who had patiently sat beside him shared a knowing glance and an encouraging smile that practically begged him to not self combust at the amount of idiocy these people were spouting. He reluctantly nodded at her, but the way his glare hardened when he heard something of the lines of them being cleaned out, said that he was willing to make no promises.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>By the time their slot was over, Damian stood up in his chair staring down each and every member in the room, especially O’Jeneus, as he looked over him smugly, and began to speak in a language that they could all agree on— <em> money </em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He said a large number, ceasing all conversations.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s how much we’re expecting to pay you”, Damian continued, taking a slight pleasure in how O’Jeneus mouth fell agape.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> That’s right you bald asshole </em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We’re expecting to triple that number within two years, concerning the company’s value, which includes your dividends. And that is on the basis if we fuck up and mishandle everything.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Damian watched how the tides begin to turn, and continued the final part of his speech.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“But WE doesn't fuck up, so you can expect a lot more fucking money than that.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The shareholders vote unanimously on going through with the acquisition, and after countless handshakes and satisfied nods, the two Gotham employees are left alone in the elevator.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Damian leaned against the wall, his arms crossed as he stared exhaustively at the metal floor. Marinette stood beside him, crossing her pointed toe heels as she sighed just as tiredly. He was surprised to see her forgo her brighter outfits, in favor of a muted heather gray dress and blazer. The only bright color that seemed to pop was just the professional red lipstick she had on.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We’ll head back to the hotel to change quickly, and then we’ll make our way over to the party”, Damian instructed, as the doors opened to reveal the basement garage. The two walked towards their rented car, but Marinette groaned at the thought of not being able to go to sleep.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Do you really need me to kiss ass with you?” Marinette said, pouting impishly. “I still have to pack since I’m leaving a day before you go back to Gotham.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Damian already knew this. Tim had him stay a day longer to help his old teammates with a mission. Yet, as of right now, he truly did not care for Marinette's complaints, and he was positive her presence will stop him from throttling the bald prick.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t know if you’re aware” Damian drawled getting into the driver’s seat while Marinette entered the passenger’s side, “But the reason why a lot of the shareholders did not pay attention to the PowerPoint is that they were ogling you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“But that’s not my fault!” Marinette groaned, falling back into her seat.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s not, but it did sway a lot of them to our side. They’ll all be disappointed to not see the cute office lady”, Damian explained, pulling out of the garage and into the traffic of the city. “Besides, it isn’t official until the lawyers oversee that bald guy signing the contract tomorrow morning. We’re barely towards the finish line, and you’re the last push to get us over that hurdle.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nice analogy”, Marinette laughed, before she glanced at him with that same teasing look. “But what you’re asking me is to use my looks and charisma to exploit their weaknesses?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Damian smirked, huffing out a tiny laugh. “If it makes you feel any better, I’d be doing the same thing. You’re not the only eye candy they were ogling.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Marinette snickered throughout the car ride, and Damian ignored how proud he was to make her laugh.</p><hr/>
<p>“So how’d you come across this place again?” Marinette asked, taking a sip from her water. She looked out of place with her little black dress wrapped around her hips perfectly along with the red bottom heels that adorned her feet. She had thrown her hair up into a neat high ponytail that displayed the deep cut of her dress which exposed a tasteful amount of skin. Only two strands of her long bangs framed her flushed face, which had turned pink after her third flute of champagne at Mikron. All in all, she looked good for a professional night of flirting with shareholders but too good for some old pizza joint.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Used to come here with my housemates”, Damian shrugged, taking his a sip. He was in the same place as Marinette with his own casual fitted suit accented by the gold plain jane watch. But they didn’t want to risk going back to the hotel, and the two were pretty fucking hungry after only surviving off caffeine, alcohol, and mini appetizers.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You lived here?” Marinette tilted her head at him. “I thought you always lived in Gotham?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I went back and forth." He gave a noncommittal hum.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, I hope you didn’t build a new complex or something. This city has a major gentrification issue, and it doesn’t need another themed coffee shop to push out small local businesses”, Marinette lightly scolded.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nah, I lived more closer to the bay”, Damian explained absentmindedly, nodding his head at the familiar waitress that brought over a tray of pizza. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The intern smiled gratefully at the waitress until she went to attend the other customers in the other booths. They grabbed a slice and ate in comfortable silence, making small talk here and there.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“This is all vegan, you said?” Marinette questioned, her mouth still full.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Damian hummed in confirmation, before adding in, “My old housemate and I went here a lot because they offered a lot of vegetarian substitutes other than cheese. It was the only place that mastered vegan pizza at the time.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Marinette smiled with a soft look in her eyes. “You must really miss this place, huh?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What do you mean?” he questioned skeptically, biting into another slice.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You look… softer? Wistful? I don’t know, but you look much more relaxed than you do in Gotham.” Marinette shrugged, wiping her mouth with a paper napkin.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He grimaced at the idea of being <em>soft</em>, feeling slightly offended at what was meant to be a compliment.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, that’s because I don’t have to lead a fucking company right behind me”, he snapped, biting into the cauliflower crust.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Marinette only laughed at his petulant expression.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Relax”, she said, watching the people outside the window. “I prefer you being harsher.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Damian almost choked on his pizza, quickly gulping down the water to clear his throat. If Marinette noticed, she didn’t bother to say anything.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re a damn pain.” It was the first time he voiced what he actually thought of her, but Marinette ignored him. The only evidence that she heard him was the upturn of her lips.</p><hr/>
<p>
  <em> Month 4 </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It had been nothing, but binders upon binders of accounts and transactions to prepare for the upcoming audit in their branch. His whole floor had been working non-stop, a majority of them working overtime for a few hours before calling it quits. However, It was Damian and Marinette, who stayed well past the building’s hours of operations for many nights.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He thought that the two were at a good stopping point, that they risked calling for a much needed day off the next day, but he spoke too soon when Jaime called him in a panic about a whole month’s worth of expenses missing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Damian went straight to work immediately, not bothering to change out of his casual attire of dark joggers and a t-shirt because he would just go back home to laze around. But that was his second mistake after calling off.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When he tried to pull up the backup copy from his Administrative computer, the spreadsheet was blank. And when he tried to gain access into the previous history’s database, he was met with blank sheets.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His surprise quickly morphed into a glare directed at Jaime, who only shrugged helplessly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We asked IT to come up, but I think they accidentally reset the whole program. We managed to retrieve every file other than last month.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Are you fucking serious”, Damian seethed. He couldn’t call Tim to do whatever the fuck he does because he was away in Hong Kong helping Cass, and that was a whole month’s worth of expenses and liabilities they would have to find and review again. If he had everyone review and look over the missing outlay, they could be done by the time everyone goes home. Yet, that was a whole day’s worth of work wasted, which was something that they could not afford to lose.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He quickly put Jaime in charge of making sure that the remaining binders were all in order, as he quickly dialed his intern’s number.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Mister Wayne?” He heard Marinette speak worriedly into the mic. “Was I not supposed to take the day off today?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You had the day off, but I need you to come in. I’m going to pay you double the overtime”, He sighed, wishing that he didn’t answer Jaime’s call.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Marinette came in dressed in jean shorts and a white tank top with a few shopping bags at hand within fifteen minutes. He remembered her saying that she was just doing some shopping nearby, and she didn’t want to risk going back home and meeting the lunch rush.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She barely spared a glance at her coworkers, who looked taken aback from her <em> very </em> casual clothes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And when she went into his office her sandals lightly hitting the tiled floors, Damian could already see the chatter of their rumored relationship. He thought he escaped their ire after there was another latest scandal of the ITs cheating on their significant other.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But it seemed that they were reigniting the flame after too many noticed their shared day-offs.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey, I got you another earl gray.” Marinette gave a strained smile as she placed the cup on his desk, careful to avoid any important documents.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thanks”, Damian said, rubbing at his eyes after staring at the screen for so long. “Did you finish up the first week?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“First and second week”, Marinette confirmed with a tiny smirk. “Halfway done with the third week, right now.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He threw his head back into his seat, grateful for her competence, and that their time will most likely be cut in half. With a small smile, he stared up at her, watching how her smirk faltered, fading into a dangerous blush and a look of surprise.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re a lifesaver, Marinette.” The words were out of his mouth before he knew it. He watched her composure collapse as her mouth dropped open before closing and opening again. She laughed uncomfortably, before using a palm to cover her face.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thank you, Mister Wayne”, she said, speed walking to the door. He slumped into his seat with an amused expression on his face, entertained at how endearing this woman was. “I’ll send the files over for you to review. Okay? Okay. Bye.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Instead of heading to her desk, she went straight and took a right turn, presumably to go to the restroom to do whatever she does to cool down.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He snorted at her, reaching for his already-cooled tea and taking a much-needed sip.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“A damn headache.”</p><hr/>
<p>
  <em> Month 5 </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was another late night, only this time Marinette was laid out on the tiny futon, sighing wistfully before she flailed her arms in excitement about whatever story she was narrating before sighing again, only for the same process to continue.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The only reason Damian was putting up with her (barely, if the way he rubbed at his temple and slumped in his chair was anything to go by) was because she was going on about <em> him </em>— more specifically, his alter ego.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It was <em> insane, </em> Mister Wayne!” Marinette sat straight up, as she recalled the excitement, fear, and exhilaration from the night before.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Is that so?” He asked bored, but secretly, he was somewhat interested to hear what his intern thought of his vigilante self.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes! I just couldn’t believe how many weapons and things fit into his fanny pack!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Belt”, Damian corrected, trying not to show how offended he was. It was a military-grade utility belt. Not some tourist pouch.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Really?” Marinette tilted her head, but she quickly waved it away her confusion when the excitement returned. “Anyways, it was crazy. I’ve never expected to be caught in that situation.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, you were walking through Park Row, which is conventionally known as ‘Crime Alley’...”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I didn’t know that, and that wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t make me work late and miss the last train. My GPS said it was a shortcut.” Marinette pouted, narrowing her eyes to challenge him. He internally flinched at the accusation, wishing that he offered her a ride, but he had to leave early for patrol that night. So, once he was done with the minimum of that day’s work, he quickly left the office.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I told you I was going to pay for your rideshare. You just had to expense it.” He defended helplessly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“After last month’s fiasco?” Marinette scoffed with a roll of her eyes. “I’m so sick of looking at balances.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Damian sighed, relenting at the possibility that Marinette getting caught up in a mugging attempt may have indirectly been his fault.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re right”, he said, breathing in deeply. “I shouldn’t have left you to review the presentation for next week. Do you want me to give you a ride home now?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His intern blinked at him in surprise, but quickly recovered, hesitating a bit.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Right now?” Marinette flinched. “I kind of still need to do something before leaving…”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Her answer made his eye twitch before he scolded her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Then, what the hell are you doing here gossiping with unfinished business?!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t know!” Marinette said, matching the level of his voice, but much more frantic. “I just wanted to talk! You’re the only familiar face!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>At the confession, Damian cooled down, breathing in to keep from blowing up again.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“How long will it take you?” He tried for a calmer tone, which had Marinette relaxing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I just have to send out an email to one of the clients, and I should be good. It will only take me, like, five minutes”, she estimated, looking thoughtfully.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fine”, Damian said, standing up. Marinette followed suit, and they both walked out the door. Her going straight to her desk, and him towards the floor lobby where the elevators resided. “I’m going to drop off a report to Tim, and I’ll meet you back here.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes, sir!” Marinette beamed brightly, logging onto her company computer.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When Damian took the short ride up to the top floor, his mind trailed back to the other night.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He didn’t expect to find Marinette on the other end of a knife. But when he saw her, clutching her bag to her chest as she violently shook in fear from being cornered by men twice her size, he went on autopilot, knocking the group out with precise swings of his sheathed katana. And when his work was finished, he was surprised to find his gloves bloodier than usual.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Marinette, only stared on in shock at the scene, before immediately jumping onto him, thanking him with every fiber of her being. He held onto her (in the appropriate areas to keep from dropping the woman) and wondered if she would cling onto him if she knew that it was her boss running around in this caped attire.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He walked straight to Tim’s office to see the loser at his computer, playing that irritating, trendy game of battle royale with those jelly-bean characters and stupid disappearing tiles. <em> God, he hated that fucking game, and he was going to play the fuck out of it after patrol. </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey”, Damian said, dropping a folder onto the desk. Tim only responded with a hum, clicking away at the keyboard. “I got the reports.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Okay”, Tim nodded, before his stoic face morphed into one of anger and disappointment when his character fell off the platform. “Fuck!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Damian winced, sharing the same sentiment, but Tim powered down his computer, muttering about the bullshit of the game.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fine”, his brother sighed, grabbing at his coat and backpack. “I’ll review it tomorrow. Let’s go.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The two filed back into the elevator in silence. Instead of only pressing the basement garage, Damian, also, pressed his floor number.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Forget something in the office?” Tim asked with a raise of his brow.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, I’m giving Marinette a ride home”, Damian supplied, hoping they would leave it at just that.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ah”, Tim said, but there was a subtle change in his features despite the stoicism.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “What.” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“How is Marinette?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Acceptable.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s good”, Tim mused. “I thought for sure you would have kicked her to the curb after the first week.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“She proved herself reliable.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes, and it’s not because you found her cute.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“She’s not ugly. But that doesn’t play a role in me finding her competent.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I know, but you are attracted to her.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Says who”, Damian countered, glaring dangerously at his brother, but Tim was immune.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, Jaime, for one.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Those were just rumors created by the chatty woman on the floor.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, but you did take her out of all the employees with more experience with you to Jump.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“They don’t know how to keep up with my standards.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And Marinette does, which is why you like her so much”, Tim pointed out, chuckling a bit at how Damian’s face flushed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t”, he denied. “She’s annoying and a damn nuisance.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“A nuisance that you allowed to stay in a penthouse suite instead of separate rooms.” Damian’s eyes widened before narrowing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We didn’t do anything.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I would hope not”, Tim said, with a raise of his brow. He studied the seriousness on his younger brother’s face before nodding, reaffirmed that his brother wasn’t <em> that </em> type of bastard.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Even though she’s your age, there’s still some power balance, and the whole family would <em> literally </em> kill you for exploiting that.” his brother looked on at the elevator doors, watching Damian’s reaction. However, Damian made sure not to show anything. He was well aware of the rules to prevent harassment in the workplace, but the thought of talking with Marinette outside of the office interested him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“But if you are interested in her”, Tim continued. “I was considering hiring her as my secretary. That way she would no longer be working under you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Damian blinked, but before he could respond the elevator doors opened. He reluctantly stepped outside, wanting to tell Tim that he didn’t like his intern, but his mouth refused to cooperate.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Anyways”, his brother smiled, giving a salute as the doors closed again. “See you in a bit.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Damian nodded, silently turning and making his way back into the dark office. The only light coming from his desk lamp. Marinette was nowhere to be seen, yet, her bag rested on her chair.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A shadowed move by the futon and he quickly realized that it was Marinette hunched over on her knees. Calming down, he entered his office with a raise of his brow as she murmured to herself about a lost thing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Where is it?” She whined softly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What are you doing?” Her head snapped towards him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, Mister Wayne.” She let out a breath of relief as her palm rested on her chest. “I lost my earring, and I think it fell behind the couch.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Damian sighed, walking to the futon carefully studying the area until something shiny catches his eye from between the cushion. He picked it up, presenting her a little dangly, heart-shaped wired earring with another raise of his brow.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ahh, thank you, Mister Wayne! These are my favorite pair right now”, she squealed in delight, promptly attaching the earring to her lobe.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He sighed, wondering why he was charmed by her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> A damn ditz </em>.</p><hr/>
<p>
  <em> Month 6 </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was another charity event, only this time it was much more extravagant, which was meant for the richest crop of the city to rightfully give back to the communities in the flashiest of ways while paying tens of thousands of dollars for invitations and then some for the city’s local organizations.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His father made it highly exclusive to those around their income, its popularity rivaling that of the Costume Institute Ball, under the guise of the rich paying what they should have had in the first place. He remembered the family’s irritation of their rich associates, utilizing the event’s purpose to pay lower in their taxes, so they increased the minimum amount of donations along with the entrance fee to match what they would have paid for anyway. Their “gifts” primarily going back to public school districts, under-resourced youth programs, and even to important movements that fight for equality and basic human rights for marginalized groups. They even went so far as to disguise the charity with pretentious wordings that seemed to cater to the wealthy, when really it was to donate to the local Rec Centers, the worker’s unions, and posting bail for important figures wrongfully arrested.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Yet, one of the Wayne family’s favorite tactics was how they increased the entrance fee, allowing for “sponsors” to attend— that sponsor being from people of lower classes than them. Most being essential workers and some representing their communities in different ways— other non-western cultures, art, dance, and even music that most of the old money would abhor.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Damian recalled how one of the local up and coming musicians began to dance a trendy and somewhat raunchy choreography with his plus one <em> (plus five, actually) </em>. The rapper’s reasoning to “spice up” this old white people party.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>(The absolute glee he had when kicking out one of the annoying guests after she went fully ballistic about their lack of her version of “etiquette and refinement”. The way her face flushed in anger and fear after being called out on why dreadlocs were improper will always hold a special place in his heart. Racist bitch.)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But usually, the money donated to these sponsors went directly to them, which allowed for these guests to dress to the nines while also giving the option to donate some of the extra money they received or just keep it all together for themselves.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As for the Wayne family, each member usually gave double what they normally would donate each month, on top of sponsoring a dozen or so people. One of them being, Marinette.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As always, she looked as… nice as always, as she wore a pretty white silk dress that was held up by crystal-embedded straps with a deep cut in the front. It was structured and form-fitting that exposed a little more thigh through the triangle slit which was lined with the same crystals that matched her straps along with a large silk bow at the base of the slit. She wore her hair in the same style she did during Mikron’s celebration, most likely to show off the revealing back of her dress.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She stood awkwardly at the corner of the bar, nervously wringing her gloved hands together as she looked around for any familiar face. She didn’t see him, yet, and Damian took the opportunity to casually stand beside her, signaling at the bartender for a drink.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Stop fidgeting”, Damian said, and Marinette spun around, almost tripping on her heels if it weren’t for him smoothly grabbing her waist.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Mister Wayne!” she gasped as he gently steadied her before removing his arm.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hello, Marinette”, he greeted, barely looking at her as he gracefully downed the iced cognac. He signaled for another drink, and the bartender dutifully obliged.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m so happy to see you.” She leaned forward, relieved at not being left alone in a commended function such as this.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Are you now?” He smirked at her, but Marinette didn’t pick up on the implication.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes! Please, don’t leave me alone! I don’t know anyone here!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Which is why you talk to people, Marinette. Build connections and all that shit”, Damian chuckled lightly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“But I wouldn’t know where to begin.” She bit her lip, worriedly taking a look around at all the strangers.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Without even thinking his thumb tugged at her chin to release her bottom lip. “Stop that”, he scolded. “You’re going to ruin your makeup.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>At that, she pursed her lips to spread the maroon lip color more evenly. Her black opera gloves smoothed out the outline of her lipstick.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m a mess, Mister Wayne”, she laughed deprecatingly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“A bit”, Damian agreed, looking back out at the crowd of guests.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You look pretty.” He sipped at his second glass as he said this. From the corner of his eye, Marinette blushed before looking down sheepishly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You look pretty, too, Mister Wayne.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>There was more silence as people passed them by, he made small talk with some other associates before they eventually took their leave to talk with other guests. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Can I ask you something, Marinette?” Damian said, breaking the silence. He still refused to look at her, not prepared to face her potential answer.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Go ahead”, she hesitated, looking a bit worried.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Why didn’t you take Tim’s offer for a secretarial position?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Marinette paused as she thought over her words carefully, but Damian still stared straight ahead.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>On the last day of her internship, Jaime along with their other coworkers decided to throw her a little celebratory party in one of the meeting rooms. The chatty coworkers gave her flowers and ironic words of encouragement for not snagging a Wayne. Tim showed up expectedly and pulled him and Marinette aside to offer her the position. However, to both of their surprises, she gave a sad smile and declined.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s hard to explain”, she finally admitted, looking a bit ashamed. “But I have prior obligations somewhere else. I really only came here for the experience and to add on my resume.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Damian scoffed at that, “You’re adding to your resume how you declined a full-time position from WE? What a power move.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Marinette smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m really sorry, Mister Wayne.” She kept her head down, tightly wrapping her arms around herself. He felt a little bit guilty for making her feel bad for her decision, but there may be some benefits in her choosing to leave.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey.” He nudged her arm with his elbow, and she snapped her head to him. He could only smile softly, keeping his attention in front of him. “You can call me Damian.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That sounds weird.” Marinette laughed her pitiful expression dissolving. “I feel like you’ll always be Mister Wayne to me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, since you don’t work for me, anymore”, he drawled out, slowly readying himself for any outcome. “How about you get to know me as Damian?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Marinette blinked, and if it were any possible, her blush deepened, and she shyly looked away.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It sounds like you’re flirting with me”, she whispered.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I am”, he confirmed with a shrug. “Do you want me to stop?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She stayed silent for a few moments, but she finally shook her head.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No. No. I don’t want you to stop”, she whispered, looking at him with wide eyes before leaning into him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Can we go somewhere else?”</p><hr/>
<p>The next morning, Damian awoke early to an empty bed, and Marinette sitting on one of the armchairs on the balcony, her hair down and in a tangled mess. She stared thoughtfully out on the city view still covered in the night sky.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He didn’t bother to put on a shirt, only lazily pulling on his suit slacks, as he groggily dragged his feet to her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What are you doing out”, he yawned into his hand, feeling much more tired than usual.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You should go back to bed”, Marinette said, her voice somber. The change in her tone alerted something in him, but his mind was still in a haze.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Come back with me”, he tried gently, wary at the change in her demeanor. She was closed off, stoic even. Something he had never come to associate her with.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You should go back to bed.” She looked up at him, not once breaking eye contact as she said the next words. “The more you move, the more the poison will spread.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>At first, it didn’t register with him. He merely stared at her in shock, and then disbelief, and then anger.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What the fuck are you talking about”, he spat. Even then, he was aware already of the changes and damn hints. He barely drank the night before, it was hardly enough to warrant a headache like this. And one thing, that had been trained into him since birth was to be a light sleeper to prepare for any potential intruders and attacks or— or assassination attempts.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He should have felt her leave the bed, but he didn’t. He didn’t realize anything until the last minute when all the pieces fell together for a perfect picture of Marinette.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You don’t remember me”, she began, confirming his fear of the truth. “But I lived in one of the missionaries in Tibet. Your grandfather recruited as many people as he could, and I was one of them.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Damian cursed himself for not thinking anything of it when she mentioned her uncle's shop. Tibet was a small region, and the League’s base of operations was a big city in there. He should have connected the dots, but he got careless, already trusting Tim and his father to do so for him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So, what do you want”, he gritted out, straining against the pain that hammered at his temple.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nothing.” She stood up slowly, gently reaching out to his arm. He wanted to slap her hand away, fight back and incapacitate her because she was a fucking assassin but he couldn’t. His body refused to listen to every order his mind screamed. And he complied, following her to the hotel bed they were in an hour before. She laid him down as gently as she could, and he could only glare up at her as she sat beside him, combing her fingers through his hair.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s called <em>Antares</em>”, she whispered calmly. “One of the monks accidentally cultivated it and ended up in a coma after unknowingly consuming it with his tea for months straight.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Damian thrashed at the realization of what she was implying, but she moved his arms down, massaging them gently.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Don’t worry”, she said in that light tone. “I only gave you enough each day to understand your dosage levels. This amount should only leave you docile for another day.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Damian breathed angrily though his nose, calming the anger at having been betrayed. At having his feelings toyed with and tossed aside. Because <em>goddamn it</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Why”, he demanded, pressing his fingers into his palms, and Marinette gave that same sad smile.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Not anyone could leave like you did.” She closed her eyes, resting her forehead against his. As much as he hated to admit it, she was right. The League will always be unforgiving. “And your mother wanted to prove a lesson to you. She thinks you have gotten soft, and she knows you well enough to know that your ego will always overlook the unassuming people.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Is that all she wanted.” Damian felt his strength draining, but he was too stubborn to succumb to it, still desperately trying to cling on to his consciousness.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s all she wanted me to know." She still kept her eyes closed, smiling softly, before pulling away to look at him with a tired expression. “She wanted to keep tabs on how well you would do throughout this test. You made it easy by letting me stay in your hotel room and your office all the time.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I guess I failed then”, he quipped, rolling his eyes and dreading when his mother would come.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, a little bit. Your pride and ego are too large for you to see the bigger picture.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I need to work on that.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You do”, Marinette chuckled. “I’m really sorry.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I know”, Damian said, silently forgiving her, and his mother was right. He had gotten soft. But he didn’t dwell on that thought as Marinette’s lips pressed onto his and something slipped into his mouth. He rolled his tongue over the capsule, anticipating cyanide or another poison. But deemed it to have nothing of the sort. Still he hesitated to swallow it until Marinette stood up, with a sad look on her face.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I have to go”, she sighed. “But don’t tell your mother I gave you the antidote.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Damian didn’t respond, blinking heavily at her retreating figure with only three words in his mind, before succumbing to sleep.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> A damn nuisance. </em>
</p><hr/>
<p>
  <em> A Year Later </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Damian didn’t recognize her at first.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Marinette went MIA. After his mother’s failed abduction attempt, he demanded to know what was to happen with her assassin. But the woman shrugged carelessly, mentioning how she had not reported back in days and that he shouldn’t get attached to her. Damian sighed in frustration when his mother took off after that. For months, he kept himself alert as possible, looking for any sign that she may still be targeting him under his mother’s orders. But she never appeared, and Damian assumed that she may have gotten somewhere far away from the League, or at least, he hoped she did.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He tried not to think of the other consequences that agents liked them face for desertion.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And for a few months, everything seemed to go back to normal. Other than how Marinette’s desk was filled with an unfamiliar face, who nervously tried to keep up with him before he eventually resigned him to be Yee’s personal assistant (which was practically babysitting duty on top of data inputting).</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His family, especially Tim, barely brought up the intern-turned-assassin with him since his return from his mother’s. For a month, his brother had been silently taking over patrolling the outer sections of the city and upgrading his weapons as a silent apology for encouraging him to go after someone he should have looked more into.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Damian, of course, forgave him just as easily as he forgave her, and soon, missions in both his vigilante life and his work life began to take up more and more of his time, putting Marinette on the back-burner of his mind.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And when he thought about her and what she did and what they did every once in a while, he didn’t feel all that empty.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But damn it, he felt something now as he found her sitting on the near-empty monorail.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He didn’t recognize her at first. Her hair had been cut shorter into a cute little bob with the ends curling out, and there was even a streak of blond framing one side of her face as she looked down at the book in her hand. He rolled his eyes at her reading greek mythology, nevertheless, he strode up to her, weapons at hand just in case.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She didn’t look up as he sat in front of her, only the barest smile indicating that she <em> knew </em> he was there.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What story are you on?” He broke the silence, watching as her grin widened, but she still refused to meet his eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Orion being killed by the scorpion.” Damian to scoff, but his smirk remained.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Of course, you’re reading that one.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s the only one that really matters”, she mused, before rubbing in. “A tiny thing like her taking down a giant and his fanny pack.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He quickly picked up on her implication, shooting a quick glare to her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s not a fucking fanny pack.” And she snorted, easily remembering the conversations of the vigilantes having utility belts— <em> not fanny packs. </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Why are you back”, he asked casually, but there was an underlying edge in his voice.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I missed you”, she answered so simply, sighing a bit as she put away her book to finally meet his gaze. “And defecting from an underground society of highly trained killers and trackers is a lot of work, you know.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Damian knew, having been a target for them his whole life, but of course, there were special privileges since he was an heir.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So, you defected then?” he pressed on, because he needed to be sure, and he didn’t like how eager he was to hear her affirmation. She could be lying, and this could all be some trap again, but Marinette was right there in front of him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I did.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Why.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Because I like you.” It was such an honest answer, that Damian still couldn’t believe her. She had lied to him before, what was to stop her from lying again.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What are you going to do after this?” he asked after a moment of the two just staring at each other.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, I’m going to your place, aren’t I?” She tilted her head, having that same teasing smile she used to wear around him, but he shook his head in amusement. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, I guess you are.” He said, making a vow to protect her even if she tried to stab him in the back again. She stood up taking two easy steps forward and fell into the seat beside him. Marinette rested her head against his shoulder, while her hand slid into his, interlocking their fingers.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I really missed you”, she said, murmuring into his jacket. He could hear the genuine sadness and apology in her voice, but that quickly went away as her grin quirked up.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“...Mister Wayne.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He groaned before it turned into laughter that she easily joined in. Damian squeezed her hand as tightly (and gently) as he could, taking in that shy smile and flushed cheeks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re so fucking annoying."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>I was a little nervous to post this chapter because the plot is literally everywhere (and unedited). like what? who even asked for an office!au and a plot-twist assassin!marinette inspired by Greek mythos/astrology? like wHat?? and how was I even able to write 29 pages of this mess?? what?? who even am I???</p>
  <p>and I still could have written more!! 😭 😭 😭  I wanted to drop more foreshadowing of Marinette being part of the league but was so stumped on how to not reveal too much of it, so I just left it as is.</p>
  <p>-but did you guys get the fall guys reference??<br/>-Ellen Yee was a character in <i>Birds of Prey (2020)</i> played by Ali Wong, who is really well-known for doing her stand-up comedy while pregnant.<br/>-O'Jeneus is the real name of the DC villain Gizmo.<br/>-Bialyan Queen is a real DC character, who goes by the name of <i>Queen Bee</i>.<br/>-I specifically had in mind Jaime Reyes/Blue Beetle, and his sister, Milagro Reyes, from the DCAU.<br/>-Jump City was based on the San Franciso, so I had it set in the Bay Area.<br/></p>
</blockquote>how is everyone, though?? 🥺  Online classes have probably started for you guys, and I hope you are all doing well.<p>There has been much upsetting news, especially within the black community. They have been dealing with so much this year with police and racial abuse and the loss of their role models on top of living in a country that is trying to adapt to COVID rather than eradicate it.</p>
<p>Rest in Power to Chadwick Boseman, who became an icon to so many black children at finally seeing a superhero who looked like them and had a heart of gold just like them. Prayers and Justice for Jacob Blake, who barely survived an unlawful police shooting. And even though, the family of Breonna Taylor received a settlement, continue to demand punishment for the cops involved. Also, fuck that wyt teenage murderer who shot up a BLM protest and anyone who supports that little bitch. Please, keep looking at the links provided in the past chapters. Thank you.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> <a href="https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co">blacklivesmatters.carrd.co</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. tandem — embrace its dualities</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>T is for <i>Tandem</i>.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong><em>tandem</em> — embrace its dualities</strong>
</p><hr/><p> </p><p>Damian saw her from a mile away.</p><p> </p><p>Weaving carefully through traffic, on his bike, which Dick had ostentatiously dubbed <em> the R-cycle </em>, Damian got a closer look at the most beautiful thing on this very planet.</p><p> </p><p>He dreamt about her, and no matter how extensive his connections and wealth was, finding her, no— obtaining her was nothing more than a romantic’s pipe dream. But to simply find her by chance on a random evening in the semi busy streets of downtown?</p><p> </p><p>It couldn’t be coincidence. It had to be— dare he say it— <em> faith. </em></p><p> </p><p>Faith at finally being able to witness her and all her prowess.</p><p> </p><p>Damian was in awe of her.</p><p> </p><p>Every curvature of her that colored a light blushed pink, and the lovely purrs that tingled at his chest. He grit his teeth to force down the wistful sigh that he wanted to let out, but the beauty before him was just that fucking captivating.</p><p> </p><p>It was an all time classic crotch rocket— one of the only ones that he truly admired since he was a child, given its groundbreaking history and impact on the motorcycle world.</p><p> </p><p>The bike looked to have been in pristine condition as if he was transported back to 199X, and this was the very bike to dethrone the Hunda’s <em> BlackBvrd, </em>as the fastest bike alive. And god, was she fast. His father’s own modifications on the family’s automobiles allowed him to easily keep up, but her speed was created for the sake of speed.</p><p> </p><p>At this point, his own bike was on the instilled autopilot as it worked its way between two cars if Damian had been fully paying attention, but he wasn’t. Because <em>g</em><em>oddamn, was she beautiful. </em></p><p> </p><p>“Oh my god.” He practically moaned into his helmet, eyes widening at how she smoothly sped away from him while he subconsciously thanked that his mic was turned off. (He didn’t need his family to know the existence of this beauty just yet. And the thought of Jason ogling at her would trigger his petulant selfishness because he discovered her first, damn it.)</p><p> </p><p>His eyes glided over the lustrous figure of the bike and the velvety sheen of the paint job. The ceramic colors of pink champagne and snow white. (He’d usually prefer a nice black or a dark candy apple color. Nonetheless, it was still fitting, and he had to give props to her owner of how they customized the bike to their own preferences.)</p><p> </p><p>Yet, as of that moment, nothing in that world existed besides Damian and the beauty of the <em> 199X Sukizu GXS Huyabasa. </em></p><p> </p><p>That was, until his own bike suddenly broke, and he was catapulted into the windshield of a parked car.</p><p> </p><p>In the haze of slipping in and out of consciousness, Damian dreamt of a pearly pink body kit and the purring of her exhaust being cut short as someone from his right screeched to a halt.</p><p> </p><p>When he fully gained consciousness, the first thing he felt was gravel and broken glass digging into the back of his jacket, and he carefully opened his eyes to recognize the flashing lights of a firetruck and an old beat up sedan with an imprint of his back, as first responders worked to lead traffic amongst the angry commuters.</p><p> </p><p>His helmet had been removed and placed to the side, and he gently lifted his head to assess the damage that his back did on the parked sedans’ windshield. He winced, knowing that his father’s and lawyers were definitely going to be busy the next few weeks.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh god”, someone breathed out in relief, yet, it sounded a bit muffled as he was still analyzing what had just occurred.</p><p> </p><p>He sat up, internally groaning at the soreness, while rubbing the back of his head to take in other damages done after being thrown off his bike after going 40-something miles per hour. But from his own experience and judgment, he may just have a slight bruising.</p><p> </p><p>Damian blinked himself back to life, taking in more of his surroundings. Not too many civilians occupied the streets, but the few who did were either rubbernecking and recording his humiliating experience or they spared one glance at him before walking away. (Thank god for the lack of apathy this city had.)</p><p> </p><p>Still he kept his face low, angling it away from the cameras to spare any recognition that a member of the Wayne family got into a motor accident.</p><p> </p><p>“Sir, are you okay?” someone’s voice quickly came into hearing, and it was then that he was met with worried eyes, and a gentle hand on his shoulder. Damian blinked recognizing her ripped jean shorts and a dark bomber jacket as the motorcyclist of the beautiful Huyabasa, the very same one that got him into this mess and the very same one that stood proudly propped off to the side where his own bike had fallen.</p><p> </p><p>“...Yes”, he nodded absentmindedly, uncaring for what was going on around him.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay”, the woman nodded, quickly throwing her dark hair into a high ponytail. Her fingers quickly took a hold of his chin, but his attention remained over her shoulder at the pink beauty.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you sick? Do you feel any pain in your neck? Your back?” He slowly shook his head, already aware that his body had built up a strength to endure trauma like that. It was painful, but not as painful when he faced off against some of his opponents, including but not limited to his own family.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m fine”, he mumbled, tilting his head to get a better view because her damn hair was blocking the all black tire rims.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey.” The woman adjusted herself, slight irritation and concern etched on her face. “The paramedics aren’t here, yet, and I’m a nurse at the general hospital. If you let me examine you, I’ll let you ride my bike.”</p><p> </p><p>Damian felt his mouth drop, looking at the woman he considered a distraction before, now an angel sent by some higher-being.</p><p> </p><p>“Really”, he stammered out, and under usual situations, he would internally curse himself over tripping over words. However, he couldn’t spend all of his luck just yet. This was good karma for something or maybe ever good deed he had ever done, and he couldn’t afford to waste it.</p><p> </p><p>“Really”, she confirmed, standing up and offering a palm for him to follow suit. He easily did so without her help, and she raised a brow at him, surprised that he didn’t so much as wobble. Nonetheless, she led him to the back of the firetruck where the lights illuminated just enough to properly examine him.</p><p> </p><p>Yet, as he walked, he felt his chest tighten at how beautiful <em> she </em> was. The way she radiated elegance and nostalgia, and fuck, he was going to enjoy every minute riding—</p><p> </p><p>“Sir”, the woman interrupted his thoughts, and he slowly (and painfully) ripped his eyes away from the Huyabasa to meet her owner. She had on an unimpressed expression, yet, she gestured for him to sit on the little platform. He nodded, placing his rear there, while trying to catch a glimpse of the bike from his peripheral.</p><p> </p><p>“So, you definitely don’t have any pain in your neck or back”, the woman mused as she watched him crane this way and that, pulling out a small flashlight to check his vision. Damian did this whole song and dance before with Alfred and many of his medic teammates. He knows what a concussion is, and he definitely knew he didn’t have one, or one of any serious extent.</p><p> </p><p>“Follow my finger”, She said, holding up her pointer as she shone the light in his face. He did so and she muttered to herself. And as much as Damian wanted to scoff at how this whole ordeal was a waste of time, he didn’t because in the end, the sweet reward would outweigh this measly irritation.</p><p> </p><p>The woman did a bit more neurological and cognitive tests, asking in full detail of his name and any other injuries or pain in his body, to which he answered, straining to keep out the irritation in his voice.</p><p> </p><p>Another first responder stopped by for questioning, and it was only then that Damian snapped out an explanation that he zoned out while driving and flipped onto a car.</p><p> </p><p>The woman snorted at his change in attitude, nonetheless, she continued her examination. Her lips pursed when she studied his temple again, and before he could ask if they were done, yet, she spoke aloud.</p><p> </p><p>“I saw you slide head first into the asphalt, and even though you were wearing a helmet, I just want to be sure. Do you mind if I enter into your space?” she asked, as professionally as she could.</p><p> </p><p>Damian nodded, thinking that the sooner he gets this over with, the sooner they could talk about their plans of him riding the Hayubasa, but he never expected her hands to part his legs, and for her to walk between them.</p><p> </p><p>He tensed for a second, caught off guard at the intimate action, but deemed it necessary given how much shorter she was even with him sitting down. For once his attention wasn’t on the bike, but on the woman before him that stared intensely at one spot on his temple to the point that he felt somewhat self conscious.</p><p> </p><p>She was nice looking, as she studied the nasty bruise on his head, and the tiny cut obtained from when his face made contact with the ground</p><p> </p><p>“There’s a bit of swelling, but just to be sure that there isn’t any bruising or bleeding, I want you to get a CT scan.”</p><p> </p><p>He nodded stiffly, and she finally met his gaze, blinking at the shift in the air with him.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you alright?” She asked, taking a step back to examine him in full. “The adrenaline may be wearing off, and if you feel any more pain—”</p><p> </p><p>“No, I’m fine”, Damian said, cutting her off in fear that she might refuse to let him borrow her bike, or worse— find out that he was somewhat discomforted by how pretty-looking she was.  “It’s just soreness.”</p><p> </p><p>He swallowed and quickly changed the subject, trying to bring up her deal in nonchalance.</p><p> </p><p>“So, about the <em> Huyabasa… </em>” he trailed off, only for another voice to grab their attention.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey Demon! What the fuck happened to you” someone— who sounded entirely too much like his idiotic brother, Jason— shouted, failing to hide the amusing laughter.</p><p> </p><p>He closed his eyes, breathing through his nose, wishing above all that the first person to witness this scene was not the last person he wanted to see in this situation.</p><p> </p><p>But before long, he sensed the woman between his legs tense at the impeding, broad figure of his older brother, and even though his eyes were clenched shut, he felt that arrogant jeer of his.</p><p> </p><p>“And what have we here?” Damian opened his eyes to find his intrigued problematic brother and barely scoffed at his dramatics.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you related to Mister Wayne?” The woman questioned, looking back and forth between the two, no doubt taking in the clear differences. While Damian remained silent and collected, Jason was just as dramatic as Dick in his darker bad boy flair.</p><p> </p><p>“He’s my brother”, Damian cut in before Jason could humiliate him any further, and he directed a glare at the older Wayne. “And you don’t need to be here.”</p><p> </p><p>“Aw, don’t be like that, D”, Jason faux cooed, feigning concern when it was clear to anyone wishing the vicinity that he was only there to capture Damian’s foolish accident. “I just wanted to meet your friend.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, we don’t really know each other”, the woman laughed. “I just happened to witness him collide into a vehicle.”</p><p> </p><p>“A bit too close to be strangers?” Jason mused with a raise of his brow, but the woman gave a small shrug, easily stepping away from his legs.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s only to properly check for any swellings or signs of bruisings in his head”, she answered, and Damian could only glare harder at Jason.</p><p> </p><p>“EMT?”</p><p> </p><p>“Not quite, RN”, she grinned proudly. “I’m working on becoming a mid-wife, but I’m currently in the ICU at the general hospital.”</p><p> </p><p>His brother whistled, before grinning, smugly eye in Damian’s dagger-like eyes. “How sweet of you to save this little shit.”</p><p> </p><p>“Jason.” Damian seethed, warning him to leave, but his brother ignored the threat.</p><p> </p><p>The woman seemed unfazed by his brother’s crassness, even going so far as to match the lighter tone.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, he probably wouldn’t be in this situation if he wasn’t checking out my ass”, she giggled, meeting Damian’s eye with a twinkle in her gaze. His own mouth dropped slightly in shock because <em> oh shit— did he really look like a pervert??? </em></p><p> </p><p>“I was not”, Damian emphasized with a bewildered look, feeling his stomach drop that he might have just ruined his chances with her— <em> her Huyabasa </em> . Yes, her <em> Huyabasa </em>.</p><p> </p><p>“I was checking out your <em> Huyabasa</em>.” He countered almost desperately, only to internally facepalm, when Jason’s sneer darkened into something so serious that it was almost frightening.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Huyabasa</em>?”, His brother questioned, his lips forming a thin line to keep from foaming at the mouth. “She has a <em> Huyabasa </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Damian wanted to backtrack, but the only lie he could come up with was a serious <em> no </em>. But that damn woman just had to nod and smile proudly which only served to open Jason’s own box of chaos.</p><p> </p><p>“Yessir.” She grinned her eyes trailing towards her holy grail. But at that point, Damian could see that his brother wasn’t listening, already walking in a trance towards the bike.</p><p> </p><p>He gritted his teeth, his glares stabbing into Jason’s back, but the other Wayne paid him no mind as he dropped to his knees, hands hesitantly raising to hover around the bike.</p><p> </p><p>The woman merely smiled in amusement, but Damian looked worriedly between her and Jason because god damn it, he wanted to keep her all to himself, well as much as this woman would allow him, too.</p><p> </p><p>“...How much?” Jason asked, standing tall as his gaze lingered on the bike.</p><p> </p><p>“Excuse me?” The woman said, with a slight laugh, caught off guard at his sudden change in demeanor. Jason suddenly spun around, and Damian blinked at the desperateness in his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“How much”, Jason repeated, quickly grabbing her palms and cradling them in his hands. “I can wire you the money, and I can even pay you in cash right now. How much for her?”</p><p> </p><p>Damian glared at how her cheeks flushed after Jason’s mindless intimate contact. <em>Couldn’t he see how flustered he was making her?! Unless—</em></p><p> </p><p>His eyes widened.</p><p> </p><p>Maybe, that was his brother’s plan. Form an intimate bond, that would allow him to have more access to the <em> Huyabasa</em>, and <em> goddamn it— he would have expected this sort of MO from Dick, but from Jason??? </em></p><p> </p><p>Damian had to one-up his game if he really wanted a chance to drive the bike and see her. He quickly stood up from the platform, but in his carelessness, stumbled against the gravel, catching the female motorcyclist’s attention.</p><p> </p><p>Just as he caught himself, delicate hands was placed on his shoulders and chest in an unneeded attempt to steady him.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you alright?” she questioned, attracting her concern, once again.</p><p> </p><p>He nodded, but an idea popped into his head.</p><p> </p><p>Play the pitiful act to get her sympathy, and draw her away from his bastard of a brother.</p><p> </p><p>He knelt forward as if exhausted. And with a palm to his temple, he looked up at her sheepishly through his lashes, forming a tiny smirk when her cheeks darkened at the sight.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah”, he said, feigning weakness. “Sorry, I must have been more disoriented than I thought.”</p><p> </p><p>She frowned at that, and turned to the shocked Jason. Damian internally smirked wider.</p><p> </p><p>“You should really take him to the hospital”, the woman urged his brother, thoughts of his offer prioritized from her mind. m</p><p> </p><p>Jason was about to voice that concern, until the woman continued.</p><p> </p><p>“As for my <em> Huyabasa</em>, I’m sorry. It’s not for sale.” She shrugged helplessly. Damian grinned wolfishly behind her back at his brother, which only turned Jason’s kicked puppy look into one of anger. He watched as the older Wayne breathed through his nose before adopting a look that their father usually wore when discussing business.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll be sure to take Damian to the hospital, but ma’am, my services do not end with just money”, Jason said, making Damian freeze. “I can offer other things that will match the value of your bike. Rare jewelery, private celebrity meetings. A picture with Gotham’s Dark Knight, himself. Hell— I could even put a bounty on someone if you like, if I could just ride it one time.”</p><p> </p><p>The woman laughed, missing the way how Damian twitched at how Jason was implying to actually assassinate someone, but his anger quickly deflated into shock when the woman opened her mouth again.</p><p> </p><p>“There’s no need for that, Sir.” She smiled, unaware of how Damian was silently begging her no and how Jason was eagerly begging her yes.</p><p> </p><p>“I could lend you my bike one time.”</p><p> </p><p>Damian glared at the floor in defeat, while Jason was surely about to fall to his knees again in gratitude.</p><p> </p><p>“That is, until after your brother rides it first.”</p><p> </p><p>Damian snapped his head to her, delighted and shocked that she remembered to keep her promise.</p><p> </p><p>“Really?” He questioned, and she nodded with a shy smile.</p><p> </p><p>“I did promise you first.” She grinned bringing out a small pen from the little bag on her side and grabbed his forearm. She wrote down a few numbers and signed her name.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m Marinette”, she said aloud, but more towards Damian. Her eyes glanced between the two, but it seemed to linger more on him, before turning to his brother fully.</p><p> </p><p>“You could get my contact information from him.” She began to walk away from them, and Damian ignored how Jason was staring between him and her with a raise of his brow. He didn’t look dissatisfied with having to ride the bike second, but now his interests lied elsewhere.</p><p> </p><p>“It was nice meeting you”, she called out. Marinette was at her bike already, waving sheepishly at him, and he raised a hand to give a small farewell.</p><p> </p><p>Jason took the chance to stride towards him, and place a heavy arm on his shoulders. Not that he wanted him to. Under any other circumstance, he would have gladly tried to flip him over for using him as a balance prop, but his attention remained rapt on the bike and her motorcyclist.</p><p> </p><p>Given her height, Marinette did an adorable little jump to straddle the <em> Huyabasa </em> and after strapping on her helmet she sped off, maneuvering through the barriers and police cars.</p><p> </p><p>Jason gave a low whistle at the hum of the engine and the careful speed of the bike.</p><p> </p><p>“She’s really something, huh?” his brother commented, clearly talking about the motorcycle.</p><p> </p><p>But Damian’s eyes lingered on her disappearing form, and he nodded absentmindedly, clearly <em> not </em>talking about the motorcycle.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>a little backstory behind this chapter’s inspiration, but my bf and i went for a drive and saw two motorcyclists at a stoplight, and my bf asked if they were on a date. i thought it was the cutest thing and idea for a story, especially since the female motorcyclists had a pretty and pink Japanese bike and moto jacket 💕 the motorcycles and their histories mentioned are real. i switched up the spelling because isn’t it kind of weird having really common brand names in fictitious writing?? idk, might just be me lol</p><p>i have to apologize to those who liked chapter 17 and asked for a sequel. originally, i planned to make this part 2 for the perfect blue au, but was faced with major writer’s block, and i, ultimately, decided not to continue that chapter 😔. especially, considering all the praise that the last chapter received, and i wanted to go with something light-hearted because of how stressed i was trying to follow up chapter 20.</p><p>again, i am sincerely sorry to those who expected a part 2 and those who awaited another chapter. but i’m also really glad about how you guys felt about the scorpio story (my astrology sign for all my November babies haha). i really hope you guys like this one 🙂🤍</p><p> </p><p>‼️ please, continue to look at my links in previous chapters. it’s a little difficult to format them on my phone.</p><p>also, to those who can, remember to drop off your ballots!! ‼️</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. ubiquitous — everywhere.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>U is for <i>Ubiquitous</i>.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>tw: suicide, death</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong><em>ubiquitous</em> — everywhere.</strong>
</p><hr/>
<p>
  <span><br/>
There was an irritable pounding at the forefront of his mind, and his family was too goddamn noisy for someone who just happened to have regained consciousness.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dick was the first to greet Damian with a brief, yet, tight hug, and his father placed a wavering hand on his shoulder. Alfred was there, as well, greeting him as professionally as ever despite the slight sag of relief in his shoulders.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He was out for a few days after having been induced into a coma to lessen the pain of taking a nearly deadly blow to the temple. Nevertheless, he felt fine aside from the aches throughout his body, and there didn’t seem to be any neurological problems as he could recall every minute detail of their last battle down to the embarrassing way that he couldn’t dodge a hit after shoving away the civilian girl that was too close for comfort.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t be so reckless”, his father tiredly said, yet, it lacked his usual bite. Damian clenched his jaw when he noticed the bags under his family’s eyes, much darker than usual, but still all the more worrisome.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was hardly rare that he felt at loss for words because there were moments where he easily lied through his teeth, knowing exactly what the other party wants to hear all for the sake of getting them off his back. But not to </span>
  <em>
    <span>them</span>
  </em>
  <span>— his family that knew him dangerously through and through.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Damian wanted to lie right then and there— remind his father that he had it all under control, have Alfred get him a cup of tea, and even go so far as to reprimand Dick for not carefully evacuating the area.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But he knew that was not what they needed to hear, and that was not what he wanted to say.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry”, he mumbled, shutting his eyes and clenching his fists, not used to the acidity of those words. “I’m fine, now.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There was a relieved sigh of a nickname he usually abhorred but didn’t mind that time. The air felt lighter as someone squeezed his shoulder and another smiled fondly down at him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That evening, they all sat around his bed, carefully noting exactly what happened in that event and recalling what other bits of information they found.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Damian remembered something and frowned at Dick who met his gaze with piqued curiosity.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What happened to that girl”, he asked, only to receive concerned grimaces.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What girl?” Dick looked confused, glancing between him and their father, who sat silently and just as equally troubled. It only served to irritate him, but Damian pushed it down, breathing through his nose tolevel his composure.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That girl that I took the hit for.” He was met with silence as his father and brother gaped at him before having a wordless conversation with the other.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s run some more tests, Damian”, his brother said, giving a strained smile. He felt his composure crack at being kept out of a secret, and venom leaked through his next word.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Why.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There was more silence, and his father was the one to sigh aloud, already deciding that it was better to give in than hide what was so concerning about what he said.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We evacuated the area, Damian. There was no girl or any civilian close to you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He wanted to argue back. To prove them that he was fine and to show that he wasn’t suffering any more trauma from his loss.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Otherwise, why would he have sacrificed himself, get in a position that left him easily open for any blows like that? They were wrong. Someone was there, and he was ready to take a hit for them.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s run some more tests. His father repeated Dick’s words from earlier, only this time they sounded more exhausted coming from his mouth.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And Damian bit his tongue at having been reminded at just how tired his family was, and fuck, he was tired, too.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“...Okay.” He relented, willing to paint over in his mind, his memory, his resolve that there was no girl there. He just made an error that nearly costed him his life.</span>
</p><hr/>
<p>
  <span>Damian was out on patrol, and there was a man on a balcony. He watched him for a while with an uneasy feeling in his stomach, nevertheless, he remained on his perch, looking for any signs in the dazed man.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The man stood up, and Damian stood up, as well prepared for the man to leave his balcony through the glass door… or the other way. But then the door slid open and a girl appeared at the man’s side. She smiled softly at the man, placing careful hands on his forearm to lead him away from the edge and inside his home.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But what Damian felt was not relief for the man, but shock and growing anger at the girl alive and well. When she revealed herself, he was hit with immediate recognition that she was the same girl he imagined during the battle a few months ago, and his impulses led him to land on that same balcony.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The girl jumped as he touched onto the metal grates of the balcony with surprise in her light eyes and a small smirk played on her pink lips. The man that he had been surveying blinked lethargically at his arrival but that sad gaze remained looking off and far away from there.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you alright”, Damian directed the question at the man, but he refocused on the girl by his side.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The man nodded absentmindedly, but the girl beside him spoke aloud as the middleman between the two.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mister is just tired, and I’m taking him to his bed.” She smiled reassuringly, and Damian felt his heart race because she was the same exact girl that stood too close when he nearly lost his life.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He wanted to ask her just what the hell was she doing there back then and here now. He was so fuckin angry with her because he sacrificed himself for her, but she was never there at all. Inhibitions stopped him from screaming those thoughts aloud, and he was reminded of the situation at hand.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you his nurse?” He questioned, watching at how she gave a thoughtful hum before settling on a feeble answer.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Kind of.” She giggled softly but her eyes were voided of any maliciousness. “I’ll be taking care of Mister for a short while.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Damian wanted to interrogate her more, but a coughing fit erupted from the man beside her. The girl steadied him with concern etched on her face untilthe man’s convulsions resided. She gave Damian an apologetic smile, conveying that the man had to leave. Without another word from the two civilians, they turned back towards the apartment and moved further away once the door and locks were in place.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The uneasiness in his stomach remained, only spurned on more by his own self-doubts and questioning of his sanity. Unable to handle it, Damian leapt away and focused on finishing patrol and returning to his bed for a needed night of sleep.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A week later, there was news of how neighbors in that very floor found the tenet forever asleep in his bed with an empty orange bottle beside him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Detectives claimed there were no signs of forced entry, and hallway cameras showed that he had no visitors in over a month. Coroners ruled it as exactly what it appeared to be.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And Damian could only stare at the files he had found on this man, not one of them noting any caretaker or nurse or whatever.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>To his family of detectives, it was an open and shut case, but to him it was still a mystery to be solved.</span>
</p><hr/>
<p>
  <span>He saw her again, and they were alone in an alley somewhere in Singapore. His father excused it as a business trip to build better connections with WE’s partners, but he knew better that it was a forced vacation from their vigilantism. Not that he could blame their concerns and reasoning as the shift in him became more noticeable.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The quiet, growing obsession with a death that he should have prevented. The secrecy as he sat in the cave analyzing every surveillance camera and profiles of countless stranger girls with black hair and grey eyes. The underlying paranoia he got whenever he was in a reconnaissance mission. Damian was haunted by some mistake that wasn’t his fault to begin with but that of the nature of the deceased.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After his father sat him down with a first class ticket to Singapore and a suitcase full of binders of whatever he dug up in the company’s archives, Damian heard what he was trying to say under the bullshit excuse of meeting with some executives.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Take a damn break.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And so he does, making polite talk and conversation despite the tired disinterest in his eyes. The only thing intriguing about his arrival in the Southeast country was the exclusive club the CEO invited him to and its endless supply of alcohol.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He downed a glass of iced whiskey, and then another. And one more after that. To his dismay, his high tolerance for poison kicked in as the CEO generously tried to include him in more conversation about some potential imports, but all Damian wanted to do was drink and forget that underlying feeling and that memory of that girl that was there but wasn’t.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He ignored the friendliness of their partners, and excused himself away from the private area.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Jet lag”, he said lamely, finishing the last of his drink and standing up quickly.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>But they understand and smile, cheerfully waving away or shaking his hand in goodbye. And Damian bolts straight out of there. His destination being the crowded bar. Many people watch him, interested in a nicely dressed foreigner, but he slipped past the young people that offered a good night in favor of demanding another bourbon from the bartenders.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Somehow, he found himself in the alley, trying to convince himself that he was not </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>drunk. That the man in the dirty bathroom mirror with red-shot eyes and a crooked, deprecating grin was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> him. His forearm steadied him against the brick wall, and he closed his eyes repeating the mantra that he wasn’t drunk. The breeze felt cool and uncomfortable all at once and a thought crossed his mind that maybe he does need to get rid of the expensive bourbon.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><span>“You okay?” a voice called out from his side. He froz</span> <span>because he knows that damn voice despite only hearing it once. There was a different uneasiness in his stomach, the same dread that happened when he saw a civilian girl too close to his opponent and when he saw a sad man too despondent.</span></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Damian turned, making out the very same girl that was there at both events wearing a sympathetic smile as she leaned forward with her hands clasped behind her back as if she were </span>
  <em>
    <span>innocent.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But he knew better. And maybe it was the alcohol poisoning talking for him, but he responded.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What.</span>
  <em>
    <span> The fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Are you doing here.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She only blinked, the smile turning into a purse of her lips as she gazed up as if in thought on how to answer.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What am I doing here”, she repeated, as Damian’s glower intended more and more from her presence and the damn aches throughout his body. But a pleasant smile returned to her face, and she childishly leaned in a bit closer, prepared to tell him a secret.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m here for you”, she said with a giggle, tilting her head. But Damian only stared back. As much as he wants to interrogate her about that night with that man and that empty pill case, he wasn’t in the right mind. But she spoke again.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So, are you going to die or not?” The girl asked as if she was asking about the weather. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What”, he asked taken aback from her remark. He takes on the defensive stance, his hand gripping the hidden knife in his jacket.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Someone poisoned your drink”, she said with a small smile, clasping her hands together. “You have about fifteen minutes before you go into cardiac arrest, and that gives me just enough time to escort you to wherever you need to go and then meet my next client.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Damian paled a bit at the realization. With a quick motion, he jammed his finger into the back of his throat and spilled whatever was in his system. Thoughts of where the ipecac is in his luggage floats to his mind, but all he can focus on is the girl in front of him, who was smiling just as sweetly as before.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess not”, she said more to herself than to him. But all Damian could think of was a ridiculous hypothesis of who this girl exactly was. His more rational side wants to reject it, but stranger things have happened to him, and was it really that far of a stretch to believe that she could actually be…</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you…” He panted out, ignoring the burning of his throat.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Am I…” she repeated jokingly, already making her way to the mouth of the alley just to giggle as she looked back at his shocked expression. “I’m Marinette.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Then, she disappeared around the corner, and when Damian found himself chasing after her, she wasn’t there.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And when Damian had checked the security cameras of that alley and that very street, she wasn’t there.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But when Damian remembered that sympathetic smile and haunted giggle, she was there.</span>
</p><hr/>
<p>
  <span>“You want to know something?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He wanted to ignore Marinette’s question just like he ignored her presence every time she showed up around him. Yet, she was so adamant to stay and talk to him. And this time, Damian held onto every word that she carelessly said, watching as her smiling lips formed around the syllables.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I find it really ironic how determined you all are to stay alive for someone who consciously takes on these suicide missions.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Damian huffed at that, only to regret it immediately after. A pain shot up his spine from the deep cut on his side. His teammates left him alone, at his own insistence to catch their target after he made another wrong move at the sight of Marinette. And after growling out a threat, they left with worried and determined grimaces.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You shouldn’t have shown up”, Damian breathed out, clenching his eyes shut to avoid the dripping sweat.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You shouldn’t put yourself in danger”, she countered, kneeling down to his height. Her arms rest on her knees as she placed her chin between, looking at him expectantly for something to happen.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He knew what she was thinking, but he was stubborn enough not to give in to her expectations.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not going to die here”, he spat out, and he wasn’t sure if the threat was to her or himself. “I’m not going to die in this fucking shithole.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Marinette only smiled and leaned forward until his mouth was next to his ear. There was an incessant ringing and urge to close his eyes, but Marinette’s voice was melodious and taunting all the same.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course you’re not.” He could hear the grin in her words. “But if you want, I could end it for you. With just a kiss. I’ve been </span>
  <em>
    <span>dying</span>
  </em>
  <span> to kiss you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She failed to hide her laughter as Damian scoffed at her, rolling his eyes while resisting the need to groan at the pain. Her god awful joke only served to remind him that his life was truly all a game to her. It mattered not if he died right then and there or miraculous survived because she would be back for him another day. Yet, watching her faux innocent smile and the way her eyes crinkled at his bleeding state brought him a bit of peace.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Death was nothing new to him, and he suspected that this innocent persona the reaper took on was to ease him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Suddenly, her eyes widened before her look of surprise relaxed into another cheerful expression. For a second, he thought he saw her breathe a sigh of relief, until her smile turned teasing. With a tsk, she stood up and walked away.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re cutting it real close, Damian”, she called out, barely turning to meet his gaze. “I won’t be taking care of you this time.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Her body disappeared into a hallway, and his teammate entered where she once kept him company., looking frantically for him before finding his form on the ground.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They cursed, relief evident in their voice as they patched him up, successfully stopping the bleeding.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And when he was strapped into the vehicle, he vividly recalled her words.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’ve been dying to kiss you.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He covered his mouth to hide the pathetic grin and internally scoffed at Death’s shitty sense of humor.</span>
</p><hr/>
<p>
  <span>The next time they meet, Damian was cursing at the air on the General Hospital’s empty rooftop.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He couldn’t see her. He couldn’t hear her. But fuck was her presence everywhere.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I know you fucking hear me”, he seethed into the night air, glaring every which way. “Don’t you </span>
  <em>
    <span>dare</span>
  </em>
  <span> fucking touch him.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His grandfather collapsed in the kitchen, and Damian was the first to the scene. He was the first to take him to the hospital, and the only one to hear the news as his family sped back to the city.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>All this time, Alfred seemed immortal. His family and him had this underlying thought that the old man would be the one to bury all of them, but to see him look his age in that hospital bed had scared him, but not enough to stop him from storming to the roof and threaten Death, itself.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t”, someone hesitated behind him, and he whipped around to see her face void of any of that teasing grin he was so used to. “I don’t want to.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A bit of guilt pulled at his stomach for making her look like that, but then his senses came back to him, and he moved forward motivated by fear and anger. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t fucking look at me like that”, he snarled. “Don’t fucking look so pathetic to me and then take someone so fucking important the next moment.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Marinette only kept her gaze down, not saying anything at the hurls of insult aimed at her. She should understand the devastation she would leave if she took him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Stop acting so fucking innocent.” His hands clenched at his side, nails stabbing the inside of his palm. “If you fucking take him away from us, I’ll end you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His threats didn’t make sense, they both knew it. But Damian was desperate for something to hurt, and he couldn’t risk it being his family. He glared down at the way her arms covered herself, and he wanted to do more than threaten her. He wanted to scream and cry and beg, but the closest thing that came out of his mouth was this:</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“So, please, don’t take him.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes clenched shut, and he felt her presence move closer.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Like last time, her lips were a breath away from his ear, but only this time her words were much somber and full of genuine pain.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s not up for you to decide”, she whispered, the indifference in her tone chilled him down to his very marrow. And when he opened his eyes once more, she was gone.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His heart plummeted at her absence as he feared the worst, and he raced back to the flights of stairs to the floor where his grandfather remained. Doctors and nurses had already gathered into the room where Alfred lied peacefully save for a defibrillator attached to his chest.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He shook his head because he was the only one there and the only one not allowed into the room. The defeating sound of the flatline was all he could hear, and her sympathetic face was all he could see as she stood off to the side watching the whole scene.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t”, he whispered, begged, knowing that she could hear his pleas.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t take him”, he said again. Marinette blinked up at him, looking straight through the thin paneled window.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You can take me”, Damian breathed out. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Please,</span>
  </em>
  <span> take me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Marinette stared at him until a corner of her lips pulled up in just the slightest, and she shook her head, taking a step back.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A reassuring beep sounded from the monitor until it stabilized the further Marinette moved away from Alfred’s bedside.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The door opened, and she stepped out moving next to him, but Damian was fixated on his grandfather’s condition, praying that she wasn’t playing some fucked up joke on him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I hope you know what you just promised me”, she said, watching how the old man’s chest pushed up and down.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I know”, he confirmed quietly. Damian couldn’t bring himself to regret his selfish choice, relieved that he wouldn’t have to see Alfred leave with the girl and that he wouldn’t have to tell his father that he couldn’t make it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The daunting feeling weighed heavily over him, but he accepted it gratefully.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Not now”, Marinette said. She didn’t look back at the surprised expression on his face and continued. “Whenever you’re ready.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He blinked at what she was implying but couldn’t bring himself to question her further.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll be waiting for you, Damian. You can take your time.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And she was gone once more when he turned to look at her, only this time the uneasiness in his stomach was alleviated.</span>
</p><hr/>
<p>
  <span>He saw Death so many times again after his promise, but hardly as “Marinette”.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was in the forms of accidents that shouldn’t have happened, planned ones where he was too late, and the ways of the universe that no one could stop.Some were close friends and allies and some were just strangers that he happened to see.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And he received some of these deaths with a combination of sympathy and apathy, and some with grief, anger, but usually most ended with a final acceptance.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He had not seen Marinette since Alfred’s recovery, and he felt relief at finally being able to take control of his own life down to the very second he decides to not breathe anymore. But there was some disappointment in not being able to see her face and that impish, sympathetic smile.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He wondered if she calmed his late companions with that same smile as she reaped their souls to the afterlife. Damian hoped she did.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His thoughts had been trailing back to her lately nowadays. Too many close calls with his life teetering on the edge, and she never appeared as a distraction or warning sign that his time may just be up.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You didn’t forget about me, did you?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He couldn’t act surprised at the sudden intrusion. Just as he did many times before, he looked to the source of that sweet voice to find her grinning at him with the innocent tilt of her head.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No.” His answer was curt, but she didn’t mind. She never minded. She shrugged and walked around his room freely before jumping onto his bed. Some throw pillows were jostled, and the closest one was placed beneath her chest as she kicked her bare feet up into the air.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So”, she drawled, amused at how his expression remained the same throughout all her antics. “How do you like immortality?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Marinette looked expectantly as if he was another one of her companions delving into high school gossip. But he wasn’t one for formalities—especially with the confirmation that he had eternal life.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why didn’t you just take my life”, he demanded but never expecting a straightforward answer.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A pout formed at her lips as she defiantly turned away.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Because I don’t want to.” The simplicity in her answer only served to irritate him more, but he didn’t know why. Damian shoul be grateful for the gift to practically be more than a mere human, but he just couldn’t understand why she would want him to decide when to end his pathetic life.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t fucking get it, though.” He wanted to tear his hair out, but refrained from doing so, only striding up to Marinette to intimidate the answer from her. She sat up quickly, eyes widening at how close he had gotten.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Do I have another purpose. Is this some part of plan up your sleeve. Why the hell would you grant someone like me an unending life.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Her eyes narrowed down to the little space between them.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re really stupid”, she muttered quietly, and for the first time, she sounded angry.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wha—” But he was cut off.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I”, she began, glaring up to meet his eyes. Instead of feeling fear from Death’s gaze, he felt an odd sense of guilt? It was a very familiar situation on the hospital roof. He wanted to take a step back, but the anger in her gaze kept him firmly rooted to his spot.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I want you to kiss me when you want to kiss me.” Damian furrowed his brows at her answer. He remembered her teasing me of always wanting to give him the kiss of death, but the tone that she brought up now, was telling him that she was nothing but serious.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t want to be burdened with taking your life away.” Her resolved weakened and she stared back down to the floor, and Damian couldn’t help but be astounded at how…</span>
  <em>
    <span>innocent</span>
  </em>
  <span> she was. For Death to be such a fucking romantic. “You do so much, and I have no interest in wanting you to die anymore..”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Disbelief was the first thing he felt because Death was never supposed to be in the form of a young woman, yet, here she was, looking away in shame at harboring such </span>
  <em>
    <span>human</span>
  </em>
  <span> feelings.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Anger was the next thing he felt, only briefly. Yet, in that short amount of time, he felt undeniable anger that Death could act so selfish and not reap his soul for the sake of petty emotions. She never thought that about him before, and she never thought that about the comrades and deceased he couldn’t save.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The next emotion he felt was indecipherable, most likely a combination of the past two, along with some empathetic feelings he knew he would regret later on.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A finger lifted her chin to meet her confused expression, and he knew that she was fighting with her own internal battles. Nonetheless, he leaned down watching how her eyes remained ultra focused on his lips, but he stopped midway.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I won’t kiss you.” Damian wondered why it came out so rasped. “I still got shit to do. So, I won’t kiss you. Not right now.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Marinette stiffly nodded, and he turned away allowing her time to leave on her own accord. By the time he looked back, all that was in her place was the forgotten throw pillow she had pressed against her chest.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Damian fell backwards onto the bed, a hand unconsciously reaching for the throw pillow and flinching away at the iciness she had left behind.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>This thought had ran through his head before, dealing with immortality and choosing when to die down to the very last millisecond. Damian thought he could never bring himself to do it, excusing it as too many wrongs need to be righted because that was the duty bestowed onto him by his father.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The only difference between them is that Damian no longer faced the perils of mortality, lest it was by his own hands, or in this case, his lips.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He somewhat wondered his father and his siblings would do if they were granted this chance. Maybe, his father would never grant his death because he believed the burden to save the world would always be his burden to carry. Maybe, his siblings would choose to die at old age when everything just got bored, or they were tired down to their bones.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Either way, whatever Damian decided, he only hoped that the damn kiss would be worth it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Flashes of his soft her skin was and the supple pink of her lips were brought back to his memory. He blinked furiously as he recalled the genuine innocent look in her eyes which was vastly different by her teasing nature.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Something told him that it would be worth it in the end.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hi everyone. thanks for waiting for this chapter. I started it on Halloween, which is why the story was darker in the beginning, but didn’t finish it until the end of the year, where I sort of lost the flow of the story and just wrote whatever. it’s definitely not my best work, but please, consider this as a belated new year gift 🤍</p>
<p>kinda bummed I missed out on daminette december, but life was and still is kicking my ass haha. maybe I’ll post one late anyways lol</p>
<p>I know the new year is always thought of as a big reset button, but so much still continues to happen. Take the opportunity to breathe, and remember how much the tragic and happier events of last year have torn you down and strengthened you all the same. Continue to empower yourself and everyone around you. Have a blessed 2021, and I’ll see you all in the next chapter 🤍🤍</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. vigilante — the vigilante fell in love with me?!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>V is for <i>Vigilante</i>.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>isekai/korean novel/manhwa promo parody</p>
<p>that heartbreak when you read a manhwa with great art style, characters, and plot, and it turns out to be a promo to a korean novel that hasn't even been translated yet 🙁</p>
<p>hopefully this captured the essence of said promos, but for more reference, I was trying to imitate this really cute and wholesome rebirth:<br/><a href="https://mangadex.org/title/43145/the-baby-raising-a-devil/comments/"><i>The Baby Rasing the Devil</i></a>.<br/>[btw the novel for this is (machine/person) translated if yall are interested.]</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong><em>vigilante</em> — the vigilante fell in love with me?!</strong>
</p><hr/>
<p>
  <em> After escaping her friends’ plans of teaching her the history of American superheroes, Marinette is suddenly isekai’d into the comic world of bat-themed vigilantes and psychotic clowns. Thankfully, she only reincarnated into a filler background character... </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> ...Or so she thought when her boss turns out to be Cat Woman?! Thanks to her, Marinette is under Robin’s protection from about every villain in Gotham City! </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “Tch. You’re really annoying.” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> So much for surviving in the background... TT </em>
</p><hr/>
<p>Her day began with laughter.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Not hers, though.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was the type that had her along with the handful of patrons and associates cowering against the wall of <em> Modern Menagerie </em>exhibit, all while crazed men in clown makeup decided to disturb their peaceful morning with shots aimed towards the ceiling and that infamous and almost <em>cartoonish </em>cackle that she never expected to hear in her past life.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>But here I fucking am</em>, she internally laughs at herself in the most self-deprecating manner. <em>Li</em><em>ving out the most weeb shit ever.</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Marinette remembered some of her past friends, who were into major American nerd culture, discovered that she never really understood their niche inside jokes and references to huge superhero franchises. Upon discovering her— in their words— <em>lack of culture</em>, they demanded that she watch nearly thirty-six hours worth of superhero movies during that weekend along with listening to their commentary.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>By the fourteenth movie, she was absolutely exhausted, far too aware of the heroic formula and film cliches. All while handsome actors and actresses in tight spandex began their origin stories, her friends eagerly spouted facts and their own personal analysis of each film, leading Marinette to become overloaded with information that she never really asked for in the first place.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “I’m going to the store!” Marinette stood up, freeing herself from the same sherpa blanket that she had been practically coddled in for the past two days. In a much-needed break, she decided to stop them while she still could, as they ranted about the next and final movie of that Bat trilogy and how they drastically weakened one of the major femme fatales. It led to another discussion on some comic writers' take on love arcs, and then another discussion about some Japanese Otome fan game??? She didn't even know, checked out of the conversation and past the door. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Honestly, Marinette was practically braindead after consuming that much media, and the only instinct she had was to grab some more snacks from the local convenience store. But maybe, she shouldn’t have ignored her friend’s puppy eyes for her to stay because immediately after she acquired her sweets, she was met with the headlights of an oncoming car.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The next thing she knew she awoke in some apartment with unfamiliar memories of growing up in Gotham City. After the deep existential crisis and trauma of being transmigrated into another world, let alone a fucking action comic, she was a bit grateful for whatever allowed her to at least retain the memories of a background character and live a simple life in Gotham. She was even relieved that she kept her own twenty-something body and her previous name. She was still “Marinette” here, and she couldn't bear the idea of being reincarnated into some random person, or worse—<em> a Main Character </em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Because who the fuck wants to be the MC in Gotham of all places.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>From her basic knowledge, being the MC in this universe inevitably meant death, and she was adamant to stay in the background and never interact with the crusaders, antiheroes, villains, or anyone for that matter. She decided to simply play the role of the trivial background character awaiting for the vigilantes to save them because they would—<em> she hoped</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But now, she is reminded of her initial motto when she first arrived in this city, which was:</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Why the hell am I hereeeeeeeeee. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Marinette”, her senior and mentor, Lina, whispers, pulling the young woman from her thoughts with reassuring grin. She belatedly realizes that she said that out loud. “Don’t worry. we've been through this before.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> I’m not worried</em>, <em> I’m annoyed. </em>But she doesn’t voice her complaints, not wanting to alarm her only friend in the city.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Upon discovering that this world's Marinette was starting her first day as an art curator at <em>Gotham Museum of Antiquities, </em>she decided what the hell and left for her new career path, believing that she would never return to her past life and needed some way to make a living. Yet, right as she was about to enter the museum, some idiot had knocked into her, causing her to chaotically fall and hit her head against the door. The person who had witnessed the whole incident, helped her up while whistling at the growing knot on her forehead, and Marinette felt pathetically touched for having received some basic human kindness since her arrival in this world. It was a bit fuzzy after that because she swore she suffered from a concussion, but the two later learned that Lina would be mentoring her on her roles and task in the museum right before some idiot in a tacky green suit tried to rob the museum. In all her foggy confusion, Marinette unintentionally clung onto Lina, and the woman, who was a Gothamite native that did this whole song and dance countless times to the point of near apathy, decided to take pity on the new girl and patted her head to calm her. Of course, they were saved by a hero that Marinette was not really familiar with. Nevertheless, the whole event cemented the two's odd friendship, mostly due to how Lina sympathized with the girl's naivety, but who really cares.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It may have been a bit pathetic to befriend your boss, however, Lina was the only person Marinette held absolute trust in.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey, asshole.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> Or not</em>. Marinette thinks as she looks between her senior’s sharp glare and their captor. Unfortunately for her and the other poor souls grouped with Lina, they were assigned the largest henchman out of the bunch assigned to guard the doors and hostages. She also has no idea where their leader was given how he only walked in and immediately took the museum director while spouting some villainous speech. But as of now, Marinette <em>literally</em> has bigger things to worry about as the man stalks towards them with a frightening scowl in place.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> "Lina, what the fuck. Why would you say that", </em>Marinette whispers angrily, between directing a glare at her and worriedly glancing at the approaching man. But the woman gently pushes her behind, as if shielding her from what was to come. Lina reveals a soft, yet, confident smile and turns towards the man doubled their size with an apathetic stare.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What’d you say.” The man leans down, closer to Lina. And therefore, closer to Marinette, considering how she clung to the older woman like before, and she wonders why her boss isn't terrified right now. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s about time you boys leave.” Lina narrows her gaze, and if Marinette wasn’t so shocked at her audacity to stare this brute down, she would have told the woman how cool she is. Maybe, she could tell her later if her snarky mouth doesn't get them killed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Or what.” Marinette clutches onto the older woman, mentally conveying that it's probably time to back off and not antagonize this man. But of course, Lina does the unthinkable and spits in his face, causing him to flinch before once again, meeting Lina's stare-down. Only this time, there's a noticeable smirk on her lips, that only serves to rile him up more.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The whole room is covered in silence, as everyone, including the other henchmen who witnessed the two's altercation, freeze in foreboding anticipation, and the one who felt the most dread is Marinette as she gives a pitiful smile, somewhat regretting this friendship and wishing that she called off that day.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Ah, I’m going to die. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Then, there's a yell as the man pulls his muscled arm back, ready to throw a deadly swing at the woman.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Lina!” Marinette yells without thinking when she realizes their captor’s violent intentions, but her voice is cut short as her mentor grabs her and fixes them into a roll to land on the floor and away from where the punch made contact against the wall. Some of the patrons scream, moving back and away from the fight. But the man is only focused on Lina, and therefore, Marinette.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The young girl swallows at the sight of the large hole in the wall, his fist having gone through the plaster, wood, and some of the brick foundation. Slowly, he drops his arms to his side, not at all bothered by the debris embedded into his skin.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>This guy is a</em> monster, Marinette thinks, still frozen in the same spot they landed. <em>One hit and I’m done for.</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Their captor suddenly raises both his fists up, attempting to squash Her and Lina. But once again, Lina’s quick reflexes save them, and Marinette is shoved out of the way, sliding back to the display casing with a surprised yelp. When she blinks her eyes open, she is stunned by the sight of Lina easily evading jabs from their original captor along with the other henchmen who finally realized that this woman would be causing too many problems before their leader comes back.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As Lina dodges another attack from an overly-large sized hammer, the unguarded door catches Marinette's eyes. Looking around, it seemed that no one was even aware of this possible opportunity far too enamored with the battle in front of them. It seemed that now was the perfect time as ever to have everyone escape, yet, she hesitates, fearing that their movements may bring the attention back onto them.</p>
<p>But then Lina meets her eye and gives her a reassuring nod that went unnoticed by her frustrated opponents.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Feeling some resolve and ultimately thinking <em>fuck it</em>, Marinette silently catches the attention of her neighboring hostages, gesturing them to remain quiet as she points towards the open entrance. One of her coworkers, who quickly picks up on the plan, begins to take charge and leads them there, aware of the fire escape closest from there. Marinette makes the ultimatum to leave last, ensuring that no one else would be left behind while also simultaneously keeping an eye on Lina. But from the looks of it, the woman has it all under control, frustrating the hell out of her opponents and tricking them to accidentally attack each other.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>With the last of the patrons out of her sight, Marinette looks back to see her senior disarming some of the men while knocking them out with cleverly placed high kicks. Her admiration takes over, and she wonders how her boss could do all that in a pair of heels.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But then, Lina doesn’t move in time for another hit.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Her back loudly meets the wall, and she slumps to the floor, wincing at the unexpected hit to her ribs, and Marinette slaps her hands over her mouth, preventing the yell that wanted to come out. The older woman catches sight of her and glares as if warning her to leave already, yet, Marinette stubbornly shakes her head, almost on the verge of running over and dragging her out of there, herself.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As if on cue, someone shouts about the missing hostages, and Lina could barely keep quiet about the plan any longer as their captors split up— one half to subdue Lina while the other disperses to find the hostages. Some were heading her way, but the unyielding concern keeps her in place.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Go, Marinette”, Lina calls out, standing up for another fight with the large henchman.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Grimacing at thought of leaving her friend, Marinette tries to think of some way to not be so fucking helpless, but she's at a physical disadvantage, in terms of strength and numbers. The only reasonable thing that she could do to prolong Lina’s survival is to find help and show them where she is. Somewhere, Marinette wonders where the hell those damn heroes were— the one time she wanted them to show up, and they were nowhere to be found.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Feeling the bad guys close in on her, Marinette spins around, preparing to run out and inform the city’s police that there were still more hostages and praying they were competent enough to save Lina. Only that plan fails as quickly as it was thought of when her eyes meet with the chest of some man dressed in that familiar, yet, ugly purple suit.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Eh?” Marinette blinks once, twice as she smiles dumbly in shock at the sudden turn of events.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Lucky me. We have one last visitor.” And she winces at the sound of his cackling voice, finally aware of the predicament that she's in.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Of all the damn people to run into, it really had to be the city’s greatest villain. </em>
</p><hr/>
<p>Someone roughly yanks her arm back, causing her to yelp out in surprise and pain before she's pushed against Lina— or rather, <em>Selina Kyle</em>, better known as <em>Cat Woman</em>, the antiheroine, villainess, and sometimes, Batman’s lover.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>During the whole spiel where the bad guy reveals his master plan to use the Bat's lover as a hostage, Marinette discovered that her mentor was the feline heroine, and if it wasn’t for the fear of potentially losing her life a second time, she would have kicked herself for not realizing sooner on exactly who Lina was. So many memories replayed in her head, and she pieced together the most obvious. Her affinity for stray cats, the whip she once found in her office and naively assumed it was for BDSM, her complaints about her rich boyfriend and his lack of empathy.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “Wait— your full name is Selina Kyle? Why does everyone call you Lina?” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “You’re the only one who calls me Lina.” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “What?” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “You had a pretty bad concussion after hitting your head, and I felt bad if I corrected you.” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “What???” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Marinette is embarrassed, to say the least, considering how she did all she could to not willingly come in contact with the main characters. But at the current moment, she feels more dread at the thought of dying and reincarnating into a world worse than this. And with the way Lina continues to sassily aggravate their captors with crude comments about their fragile masculinity and their mothers, she knows that they were seconds closer to the next life.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>That is until the sound of metal clanging against the floors catches their attention and smoke erupts from its source, blinding the young woman and her captors.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> Oh thank god, they’re fucking here</em>, Marinette thinks, despite all her coughing. <em> They </em>being the city’s vigilantes. Judging from the multiple caped shadows she could faintly see in the smoke before they disappear to attack their enemies.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But too many things happen before she could even begin to process them. The sound of gunshots ringing in her ear is far too close to her liking all while Lina attempts to help her out of the blinding cloud before they are pushed to the side to avoid a speeding projectile.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She falls to the ground and away from Lina, who was saved by the man in the cowl, himself. She sightlessly trips on what she belatedly realizes to be one of the bad guys, and her clumsiness only serves to irk this clown more as he raises his weapon at her before another projectile spins towards his temple and effectively knocks him out cold. Marinette blinks and shrugs, only having one thing in mind, and that was to get the hell out of everyone's way.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ohmygod.Ohmygod.Ohmygod.” Marinette mutters to herself, sounding strangely calm for someone caught in an all-around deathmatch. Only relying on her senses, she luckily bends forward and backward, twisting this way and that, each movement narrowly avoiding swings of metal bats and swords and—<em>ohmygod, why are there more fucking gunshots?! How the hell was she still alive?!</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my godddddddd.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey!” Someone calls out to her as the smoke begins to clear, slowly revealing the mess that was being made. One man in a red mask tackles and throws two people in her direction. She slips by the man with a blue bird on his suit, impulsively muttering out a <em>sorry </em>when he bumps into her. And another man dressed in yellow and red slides in front of her on his back before stopping and jumping back into the fray. Lina was with that man of hers, but he was doing a good job shielding her from some attacks despite her angry protests. But Marinette is too overwhelmed by the fact that these people were still fighting and shooting. <em>Seriously?! Just how many bullets can they have?!</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey!” Someone calls again, only this time much closer as a hand roughly grabs her arm and pulls her close to their own body, which was a <em>horrible</em> move on their end, considering how her body is only relying on adrenaline and pure fight or flight instinct. At that moment, her body chooses to fight, desperately wanting to escape that person's grasp as her mouth opens to shriek out the needed obscenities.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But a gloved hand covers her lips and Marinette instinctively throws her head back against what felt to be a cheekbone and hearing a distinctive <em> fuck, what the fuck </em>before heedlessly elbowing and kicking behind at her would-be attacker. Her self-defense is awkward and ineffective, save for that headbutt, however, she still keeps at it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Stop, stop, stop!” He yells trying to calm her, as he adeptly presses her limbs down against her sides. “I’m trying to help you!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Marinette breathes in fast, slowly looking behind her to meet a masked vigilante with an irritated scowl that is definitely not a clown henchman and <em>oops…</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sorry…” She grimaces watching how this vigilante’s eyes narrow under his mask. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Just follow me.” He grunts out, almost sighing at having to be around her, and he pulls her away from the chaos, albeit more gentle than when he first grabbed her arm.</p><hr/>
<p>Marinette stumbles carefully through the halls of the museum, leading to some exit that wasn’t hazardously blocked off by the clown people. Judging from this vigilante attire, she guesses that this person was Robin, alterly known as Damian Wayne— Batman’s biological son? She doesn’t really know, barely learning in her past life that there had been multiple Robins after Dick Grayson’s original. Even then, the alternate universes and retcons of characters and backstories confused her, so she preferred to only listen to her friends’ interpretation of heroes rather than dive headfirst into that rabbit hole.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She purposefully coughs, hoping to catch his attention, but her savior continues walking. Nonetheless, the woman opens her mouth to say something to at least appease him and get on his good side. Her friends described him as an evil brat, but regardless, he still saved her, and it also helped that he was pretty handsome despite that scowl.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sorry about headbutting your face'" Marinette says, expecting him to scoff or deny that it was no trouble. But he makes no indication that he heard her second apology, which causes her to pout in shame at being ignored. Deciding to remain quiet and internally agreeing that maybe he was an asshole like her friends said, she is suddenly pulled forward, almost tripping in the process until strong forearms catch and steady her back onto her feet. The movements were so gentle, and she swears that her heart skipped a beat at that very moment.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Marinette's eyes widen at how this scene played out like the perfect meet-cute, like in the international romantic dramas she watched over the years. But unlike those scenes, Marinette only meets a dark glare when she glances up at his handsome face, and she internally cries at how foolish it was to assume that there may have been a spark between the two.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ehm—“</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We cleared an exit for you.” He interrupts, nodding his head towards the doors that lead to the attached parking garage. “Go down there and make a right to where the paramedics are. If Gordon or any other officer sees you, let them know that there are no more hostages.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Marinette blinks at the instructions and furrows her brows at the last part of his command.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“But what about Lina?” she demands, looking back to where they had escaped from.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We got her”, Damian—<em> Robin </em>confirms. ”Just go get that hard head of yours checked out, and Selina will call you as soon as she can.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Huh?” Marinette frowns, focusing more on the offensive insult rather than his instructions. She mumbles out, “it’s not hard', and presses her hand against her forehead, feeling a bit insecure at the vigilante's rude remark.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But Robin scoffs at her and turns back to where they had just come from, likely to rejoin the fight once again.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Her frown deepens as she watches him leave. An without another word, Marinette turns back to the exit to at least get checked out. She wasn't sure if she could afford to endure another concussion, and her friends never told her if this world still had universal health care.  But despite the exhaustion of the whole morning, she feels some relief that her interaction with the MCs were kept brief and short. Looking to the positive side, the young woman takes it as a sign that her life in that world was prolonged for another day or so. Even then, she still needs to remain cautious about attracting more unwanted attention. Interacting with Lina was already dangerous enough as it is, but forming some relationship with the main vigilantes was begging to have a target on her back.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Marinette shrugs it off, though. Besides, what are the chances that she would get to interact with him again?</p><hr/>
<p>
  <em> Eh? </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Marinette gulps, helplessly looking at her mentor, while desperately ignoring the scrutinizing stares of the vigilantes in front of her. With her palm pathetically covering her face as a meek shield from them, especially the one in red and green, she makes a face at Lina, wondering what the hell was going on.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “So…” Lina grins sheepishly. “You have a bounty on your head.” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “What?!” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “It’s okay because we’re assigning Robin as your bodyguard!” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Eh?! </em>
</p><hr/>
<p>She blinks at the same vigilante who looked ready to <em>kill </em>her despite saving her life countless times before. At that moment, Marinette realized her mistakes, and she cursed her nerd friends in the past life. As she was about to play dumb, he rudely cuts her off, aiming a sharp, accusing glare at her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “Why did you call me that name.”</em>
</p><hr/>
<p>For the first time since their meeting, the vigilante smiles at her, one so unusual, but reminiscent of the arrogant smirks he would throw at her during his time protecting her. And for some reason, Marinette can't think, her heart beating so fast and her mind blanking out, even as his gloved hand moves to caress her blushing cheek.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> This… wasn’t supposed to happen. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Marinette thought she wasn’t going to survive if she became close to the vigilante, but does she even want to live without him anymore? </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>wow all that for just a smidge of daminette lol.</p>
<p>happy belated valentine's day/mardi gras and early st. patrick's day! I won't be participating in this month's maribat march bc school, work, and sadness are taking over my life. andddddd I'm also getting really self-conscious about my writing idk lol. but omg it's almost been a year since I started this work, and I'm so embarrassed that I didn't finish it within the 1-2 months that I originally planned to :////</p>
<p>sorry for taking you guys on this long AU haul that you will probably never see me continue/expand bc I don't know how to worldbuild LOL. but thank you from the bottom of my heart for sticking with this &lt;3 see you next time!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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